EXCERPTS FROM THE DIARY OF KDIZ DARK-OF-EYE, AKA MRIN THE DISOBEDIENT translated from the Dwerrow and edited by Jamalan, disciple to Pernum Darkstorme the Historian, in the years 682 - 687. Readers please note: Many words are the original Dwerrow, left in for the sake of accuracy either in names or where there is no exact translation. Rough translations follow in brackets. -J
BOOK 1, PAGE 1
Happy Natal Day, Kdiz. Record your dreams in this. With love, Rtala.
It’s Solmatz7* <February 10>, 464, and I’ve just turned twenty years. My older sister gave me this so I could put in writing the “very odd” dreams I have. For the last ten years, she’s the only one I have told of them, and she has been sworn to secrecy. She thinks they’re prophetic. My parents, when I first told them of the dreams, thought they were “disturbing”. There were very ominous overtones to that word. Personally, I don’t know what to think. If they are prophetic, and someone in later centuries digs up my diaries to find out what actually happened, let me give you some salient details of my life so far. When I was born, my parents named me Kdiz<Dark-of-eye>, for my eyes are nearly black, which is very unusual for Dwarves. Most of our eyes are brown or grey - basically stone-coloured. Sometimes we have golden-eyed children, and they are always thought to be lucky. My mother, Agil-Onen<Blessed Lady> from the Silverblade clan, has the golden eyes. Black-eyed children are frequently thought to be ‘touched’ - that is, leaning slightly toward madness. That’s certainly what my father thought. I think I’ve managed to convince him otherwise, but only by keeping my mouth shut about my dreams. More on that later. I was my parents’ third child, and second daughter, and my mother is held in high honor for that. My brother Trialtz<the Contemplative> and elder sister Rtala<Quick-foot> are normal in every respect, and throughout my childhood I often got the feeling that people regarded me with a sort of ‘well, they were lucky to have her at all - what can they expect?’ attitude. My father’s name is Rgaltin<Heavy-brow>, and he is of the Greyhammer clan. He is a grim, decisive man, perfect for his office as Duke of the Goldriver Hold. Thanks to Rtala, I know what I did as an infant that caused my father to give me the strange looks he was favouring me with when he thought I didn’t see. As if my eyes weren’t bad enough, the first word I ever spoke was “Magma”. This wouldn’t have caused any comment in Glowing Rock or Runningstone Holds, because they are the Holds that live with the volcanoes. Goldriver Hold is miles from any volcano, and magma just isn’t a word I would have heard. Then there was my tendency to draw - well, to sketch, really. I’d use charcoal on any available surface, apparently. Besides making a mess, my father considered this a grand waste of time - but I was obsessed with it. Rtala saved some of the ones that were done on portable mediums, and showed them to me later. Early on, my sketches looked like knotty sticks. They progressed into things recognizable as maces. There aren’t many left of the later ones, the ones with figures. I remember drawing them, but they took a while, and my father would usually catch me at them and destroy them “for my own good”. The images were from my dreams - a fiery-haired woman^ with skin like living granite, standing over a forge, hammering an object. The same woman, handing the object to a man in white armor.^^ Then an intricately wrought white mace, covered in dark blood. A hideous green face, leering in the darkness. A figure with black skin and pale hair, rending the creature with the green face, and running through dark caverns. Finally, lately, gouts of flame, and large talons seizing the mace. There are other images as well, of the woman with the forge. They don’t feel like they are connected with the others, or are only loosely connected. She’s in armor covered in black ichor, laughing and swinging a double-bladed axe. Or she’s moving stealthily down inky passages, the only light a low red gleam from her eyes. Or she’s standing over the body of a man with black hair and eyes. The latter was one of the last ones I told my father, and he shouted ‘blasphemy!’ and locked me in my rooms for a week. After that I shut up about all of this. Am I going mad? Is my imagination way too active? Should I drop my intended career of weaponsmith and become a loremaster instead? Or maybe, might I hope that I am in fact seeing Magma, the First Dwarf, herself? Is she trying to tell me something? If so, what - and why me?
*Dwarves and Hobbits use the same calendars in their regions, but the month names are pronounced slightly differently, as shown in Appendix A.
This is obviously his adult name, but Kdiz and her sister have yet to go through the naming ceremonies in their coming-of-age (at age 50) rituals.
^ Where ‘woman’ and ‘man’ are used, they are used to denote female and male Dwarves.
^^ White armor is the ceremonial armor of the hereditary King of the Dwarves, not worn since the Wars of Annihilation. It is made of Kuursek <Mountain’s Spirit>, an inherently magical metal that, while it is most difficult to work, weighs only slightly more than steel but is virtually unbreakable. Due to the extreme scarcity of this metal, it is almost NEVER found outside the Dwarven Kingdom.
BOOK 5, PAGE 145
Mydyarsdi<Midyear’s Day> 469
Today was a day of wonders! Today, for the first time, I saw the sun! It is the custom of the Dwarves that on the first Mydyarsdi past our twentififth birthday, we go out from under the mountain and visit the Hannoks<’Gardens’ where the herbs and vegetables are tended that must grow sunside –J>. We are also taken to the Hrulg* dens, to spend a few hours with the Hrulg-Sachz<Hrulg-tenders> learning the proper whistles and calls. We were taken up early this morning, myself and three others from Goldriver Hold. None of us had ever been sunside before, although we were luckier than most of the tweeners from the other Holds, for in our hold you can at least see sunlight. There is a shaft of fairly clear quartz running from the apex of our Hearth, right above the Liferock, to the south side of the surface of the mountain high up near the perpetual snowline. Starting on the first day of spring and ending on the last day of fall, at noon of each clear day that quartz refracts sunlight down into the Hearth and onto the Liferock. Our particular Liferock has thin veins of gold running through it, and thicker veins of ruby. When the sunlight hits it, it looks like it’s on fire. Today, shortly before noon of course, the entire Hold gathered at the Hearth for the Bragt-Skran<Heart-time>, our yearly ceremony where the sunlight reflects perfectly into the ruby veins. The skies above were clear, and the Liferock began to glow right on cue. The light seems to swell the Liferock, giving the impression of a glowing, living heart. On years when it’s cloudy and the ‘heart’ of the Liferock does not ‘beat’, it’s considered a very bad omen for the year. Marriages and new projects will be put off until after Yul. But I digress. The four of us from Goldriver met in the Kaai-Rhiu<Hall of Lore> at the sixth hour of morning. The Chan-Rhiu<Master of Lore> met us there, and led us up the unfamiliar passages to the Kaai-Kreck<Hall of War>, the mustering chamber right before the main gate. We waited there for the rest of the tweeners, two from Opalcleft Hold under the northeastern flank of our mountain and three from Rubycave Hold, far down at the mountain’s roots. The Liferock of our Hold came from Ruby Cave, and eight hundred years ago when our Hold got too crowded the splinter group formed its new Hold there. Opalcleft splintered off Goldriver a mere two hundred years ago. But I digress again in the name of history. Maybe I should become a Chan-Rhiu. In any case, the tweeners from the other Holds had farther to come. Once everyone had arrived, our Chan-Rhiu nodded to the elder of the two Riik-Rigen< (Great)Gate^-Warders>, who produced a large and intricate Kuursek key from the pouch at his belt. With great ceremony, he inserted it into the lock, turned it thrice, and the ponderous doors silently began to swing open. Our Chan-Rhiu, seizing upon an opportunity to continue our education, began to chant the Dragon’s Rede^^, joined by the Chan-Rhiu from the other Holds. I had never heard this one before, so I listened as carefully as I could, but I didn’t get all of the words. It was about the coming of Skrerat the Vicious, the Eld Dragon that took Collosum through its Riik some six thousand years ago, and about the long fight to drive him out again. I’ll have to get the Chan-Rhiu to teach it to me. The Riik opens onto the east side of the mountain, facing towards Collosum some forty miles distant. I took several slow steps toward the rapidly growing opening, watching the sunlight climb across the tunnel roof and down the walls, and then I could see it! The sun is magnificent! A great glowing disc, brighter than a thousand forges, and warm! Even as far away as it must be, its light felt warm on my face! Truly marvelous! I must capture this somehow. I must set its light into a blade, into a pommel - it shall be a bane against the creatures of the Dark! If I can only get my hands on some Kuursek.... <What follows is several hasty sketches of various blade designs, that will appear again in later forge blueprints from her fortieighth year. She does make the blade, but I leave out these sketches in favor of the later ones. -J> Once I got sunside, I could see that the outer surface of the Riik was sculpted to appear as part of the cliff face. Kind of silly, really, since there is a fairly obvious road leading up the side of the mountain towards it, but I suppose it made sense when the new Holds were first started.... Our Chan-Rhiu gathered us all into a group and started identifying the nearby mountains for us - after all, it was the first time any of us had seen them from the outside. “This mountain is called Skraet<the Pike>, as you all well know,” he began. “The peak directly in front of us is Khi-Destt<Split Neck>, housing the Rubywalk and Silverlake Holds...” <A lengthy description follows. For simplicity’s sake, please refer to P. Darkstorme’s Book of Xarian Geography, p. 704 “Thorin According To The Dwarves, translation”. -J> There are also a few lesser paths leading away from the Riik in various directions, and we started along one that curved up the mountain to the right. It took us perhaps three quarters of an hour to climb the steep trail to the Hannoks. Ours are nestled in a small valley whose only sunside entrance is a narrow cleft in the side of the mountain. At the back of the cleft, of course, is the door to the access tunnel, but today was our day to approach from the path. The Hannoks look rather like this: <A rough sketch follows, with brief descriptions of various herbs. Please see Appendix C. -J> After exiting the Hannoks, we continued up the trail. It was much narrower here, and visibly less traveled. Soon we came to a natural stair, leading up near the snow-line. It leveled off some fifty cubits below the perpetual snow, and branched off in several directions. Sitting slightly beyond the fork was what could only have been the Hrulg-Sachz, a very scruffy-looking fellow with an uncombed beard, dressed in furs and holding a longstaff. He had bright, quick eyes however, and with these fixed our Chan-Rhiu. “’Bout time,” he teased good-naturedly. The two exchanged some banter, and led us around the peak to the nearest den. I was at the front of our little group, and so was the first able to reach out for one of the two Hrulg pups playing in front of the den. I almost had him when not one, but two forms interposed. One was the Hrulg-Sachz, and the other was the mother Hrulg. Both of them growled at me. I jumped. What followed was a period of introduction, of all of us tweeners to the basic lore of the Hrulg, and to the whistles and calls, and to the Hrulg herself. While we were being lectured and practicing, however, the little one I had reached for had discovered me on his own, and kept butting my leg. When he started to nibble, however, the Sachz lifted him away from me. It turns out the pup’s name was Nidd<Toothy>. I think he liked me. I wonder if my father will let me go visit him occasionally? In any case, we had been out long enough that we had to scurry back to be in time for the Bragt-Skran. I’ve never seen the Chan-Rhiu move so fast in my life. Unfortunately, it left me no time to ask him about possibly becoming one myself....
* Hrulg do not have a direct translation, because there is nothing in the Human world quite like them. Essentially, they are a very large breed of quasi-domestic canid that the Dwarves occasionally employ as mounts.
the year categories of young Dwarves roughly translate to the following: 0-9: teners 11-19: teeners 20-29: tweeners 30-39: threeners 40-49: forthers
riik is the Dwerrow word for gate. It is capitalized, Riik, only in the case of the Main or Great Gate of every mountain.
^ A copy of the Dragon’s Rede appears later in the same book. Kdiz had apparently liked the song, so she copied it from the Lore-Master’s texts. I have placed a copy in both Dwerrow and Human in Appendix B. -J
BOOK 25, PAGE 143
Furlitk 30, 489 Litk 1 is tomorrow, beginning the three-day celebration. Bloody good thing, because last night was one more night spent in the forge because I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I fell into one of those strange dreams. I haven’t had the dreams in over a decade - why start again now? That’s the fourth night in a row. Oddly, now all the dreams have me in them. Me, topside, in the upper world away from the mountains. Frankly, it’s terrifying. The first night I was on one of the Hrulg, running through a forest. The next night I was in a large room surrounded by Humans - and may I say, that alone was enough to convince me that these are something more than dreams, because I couldn’t possibly have imagined some of the ridiculous things that I saw those Humans wearing. The night before last I was riding a horse - a horse, mind you! I had to look up the word - through a desert. Lots of sand, lots of sun. And last night, worst of all, I was on a ship (throwing up over the side rail, let’s be honest). I’ve never even seen a ship before. River boats, yes, with oars, but this was a ship with sails (another word I had to look up!) It’s enough to make me hope I’m insane already, because if I’m not, I’m going to go there from lack of sleep. On the upside, I’m getting a lot accomplished in the forge. Speaking of the forge, that ceremonial dagger I’m working on for mother is coming along nicely. My inlay skills are getting more precise all the time..... <what follows is a description of several projects and tooling methods -J>. One more note - I got approved today to join the Druug-Krimcz<Tunnel Fighters> on my next birthday. It’s a little early - I’ll only be forty-six - but the Lieutenant is a friend of my father’s, and father agreed to push him a little on my behalf. I knew he would - father is as anxious to have me out of his sight as I am to be out of it. We got into another disagreement this morning, this time about my upcoming marriage. We haven’t had one this bad since I told him I wanted to become a Chan-Rhiu. I can tell that this is going to be a source of quite a number of disagreements. I feel that I am meant for more that being a mother! At least he has no problems with me joining the military for a duty term after my coming of age. But this Mydyarsdi they plan to announce my marriage to Lugronn<Clever hand> of the Ironfire clan. Not that I don’t like Lugronn - in fact, we’ve been friends since we were children. And he’s a good match socially - Ironfire is one of the more popular clans, and Lugronn is stable and intelligent. He’s young, but I think if he put his mind to it he could be Rigen-Than<Warder King> someday. However, he knows nothing of my dreams, and would undoubtedly disapprove. Strenuously.
BOOK 28, PAGE 308
Blutmatz 12<November 12>, 492
By the Beard of the Crafter! How can we be so short-sighted?! I have looked everywhere, and found no mention of where there might be a living dragon. According to the literature of the Dwarves, they’re all dead. All of them. How can we be so blind?! BAH! I know how we can be so blind - we think of nothing outside our own borders. Well, if I’m not mad and my dreams are to be believed, there’s at least one left somewhere - but where? I suppose I’ll need to go to Uragoth eventually, although how I’ll survive that I can’t begin to imagine. Perhaps the Elves may know....
BOOK 30, PAGE 1
Solmatz 7, 494
Oh, it was priceless! The look on my staid old father’s face. I’m still chuckling. What I’m referring to, of course, is the adult name I took today. My darling dour father had been dropping hints that I should consider the name he had chosen for me - Wrulden<Swiftarm>, because of my success with defeating the assorted tunnel beasts my troupe has come across in the last four years. It was finally a reason for him to be proud of me. But thanks to all the fights we have had over the years, and as a warning of what is to come, I chose something much more appropriate - Mrin<the Disobedient>. The warning - I’ve made my decision, you see. I still have the dreams about once a week. I join the regular military tomorrow, and have managed to get the marriage pushed back until I am done with my two-year service. Before the wedding, I’ll be gone.
My Chan-Rhiu and I have continued to be fast friends, even though I never became his Apprentice. He has still tutored me, and advised me over the years, and we remain close. Close enough, I felt, to be worth the risk of letting him know my plans, since if he decided to back me his help in making preparations and planning my route would be invaluable. Thank the Crafter, I was right. He believes that it’s high time we had a King again, and he has always said my dreams were worth listening to - especially if they really could lead me to the Mace. He has promised all the help within his power. He has a lot of connections - that’s going to be quite a lot of help!
BOOK 32, PAGE 98
Trimidg 15 <May 15>, 496
Today, I left the mountain. It’s a little over a month and a half until my supposed wedding with Lugronn. I decided that this was as far back as I could push it without meeting folk coming overland for Litk. I’m heading east, to Collosum. Deep under the city is the entrance to StkaHolbyt<Hobbit Way>, the ancient tunnel to Orenvale. I figure I’ll have a better chance of not running into anyone who knows me if I go sunside for this section of the trip, and once I’m through Collosum and into the tunnel I probably won’t see another living soul until I surface on the other end. Of course, if the Holbyten don’t have the lore I need, I’ll go into back down and turn onto StkaYlvn<Elven Way>. If they don’t know where to find a dragon, I don’t know who will.... I’ve been packing for the last three days, in stealth in the middle of third shift. I haven’t been sleeping well anyhow. I also haven’t written in the diary those days, but I’ve left blank pages so that my counting doesn’t go awry. Undoubtedly the most dangerous part of my preparations was breaking into Father’s horde the night before last and stealing the Kull Ikornu<Unicorn Cup>, which renders all liquids placed within non-toxic (at least to Dwarves - to my knowledge, it’s never been tried on any of the other races). Of course, it also renders Dwarven Ale non-alcoholic, so caution must be taken.... Last night, I didn’t sleep. At mid-of-night, I gathered my supplies and crept up the back tunnels to the Hrulg dens. Now it was time for all the work I’ve been doing above to pay off. The Sachzs keep the saddles inside the tunnels, and I fetched the one I’ve been training in for the last two years. It was issued to me for the duration of my military service, because I volunteered to learn surface-fighting as well as deep-fighting. I found Chaik<Jumper>, my ‘assigned’ Hrulg (who are we kidding, Chaik is the only being I’ve gotten along with consistently over the last year), waiting for me by the entrance as I’ve trained him over the last two weeks, and we loaded up and were off. We made ten miles by dawn, and over the rest of the day made another twenty more - not bad for mountain terrain. It’s the longest ride I’ve ever been on, and both of us are exhausted. It seems as though I’m too keyed up to sleep, however, so after fifteen minutes of trying I decided to catch up on my diary. After all, it’s only here that I can admit that I’M TERRIFIED!!!! This isn’t the first time I’ve slept starside, thanks to the military training, but now I know I won’t be going back for a long, long time. I really hope I’m doing the right thing. In any case, right thing or no, we’ll enter Collosum late tomorrow. Chaik assures me that the long trip underground won’t bother him, and hopefully enough Hrulg are seen around the capital that he won’t be particularly noticed....
BOOK 32, PAGE 99
Trimidg 16, 496
Busy day! We got into Collosum at about the fifth hour past midday. As the Dwarven Capitol City, they leave their Riik open except in time of war. There are guards of course, but they weren’t too terribly suspicious of a fellow Dwarf. It took another good three hours to get down to the Turriik<Deep gate> levels, and another hour to find the riikStkaHolbyt. Then three more to get it open. It hadn’t been used in a long, long time - several centuries, I’d imagine. Probably been sealed up since the time of the last King - all the Warder Kings have been pretty isolationist, and most of the Turriiks have been closed since then. Bless my old Chan-Rhiu, for digging up the opening codes and keys for me. These things are supposed to be kept in the care of the KreckKayin<War Marshal>, but from what my Chan-Rhiu told me the cabinet hadn’t been opened in decades.... In any case, between the keys, the Words, and some good old-fashioned brute strength, I edged it far enough to get myself and Chaik through. It closed much more easily - and for some reason that makes me nervous. From the outside, the riik looks like a tunnel collapse - just a mound of boulders completely sealing the tunnel. Legend has it that any you move will be magickally replaced by another, so that the pile never gets any smaller. I didn’t take the time to test the legend. Close by, there are four false gates in the tunnel walls, some obvious, some meant to be difficult to find. Supposedly they all lead to traps and pitfalls of one type or another. I didn’t test those either. After I had passed the last potential snare, I put out my torch. The tunnel floor is still smooth, and my Darksight is good enough that I can see farther without the torch. Happily, Chaik was just as pleased to have it snuffed as well. From here, it’s a straight road to the Hobbit Shire. It should be fairly easy, unless one (or more) of the Dark Races has discovered the tunnel....
BOOK 32, PAGE 100
Trimidg 23, 496
To conserve paper (so that I’m not hauling around a library), I’m only going to write when something happens. It’s been a week in the tunnel so far, and we should be nearing the half-way point. Crafter bless Chaik - with him I’m traveling much faster than I could have on my own two feet. I’m just writing so that I remember to mention the river that has washed out the path. At some time over the last several centuries, an underground river broke through the area and now the path is divided by a 20 foot wide chasm. From the sound of the water below, I’d guess that it’s at least a 300 foot drop. Chaik told me that he could make the jump, but the tunnel was too low for him to make it with me on his back. The walls are too smooth to find anything to tie my rope on to, so we finally settled for having Chaik jump across with one end of the rope in his mouth. Then I’d jump while holding on to the other end, and he’d pull me up on the other side. It was a near thing to get Chaik over to the far side. The height of the tunnel limited his arc, and he landed with his back paws just shy of the lip. He held on with his front claws and scrabbled with his back feet, and finally got himself all the way over. Then it was my turn. I held on, shut my eyes and stepped off into the chasm, swinging down and hitting the other side with my feet so that I didn’t get the wind knocked out of me. I started going hand-over-hand, and could hear Chaik’s claws clicking on the stone as he slowly backed away from the edge. After one tense moment when Chaik slipped and the rope I was hanging on dropped about five feet, I eventually made it to the top. Chaik and I were both trembling and sweating, and I decided we’d stop for the night right here. I gave him a good brush-down, and as soon as I’m done writing we’re going to curl up and go to sleep.
BOOK 32, PAGE 101
Furlitk 8, 496
So much has happened since the last time I wrote that I hardly know how to begin. Towards the end of that night, I was roused from sleep by the sound of voices - Kylvn voices. I had only picked up a few words out of the lore-books, but I recognized War, Blood and King. I awoke Chaik and we packed up, very quietly, as I tried to determine where the voices were coming from. As nearly as I could figure, they were echoing up out of the chasm - and they were getting louder. Chaik and I moved out, as quickly and silently as we were able, but - rotten luck! - the path was crossed by another chasm not far ahead. This one was narrower, about 13 feet across, but still too wide for Chaik to jump with me on his back. We started to use the same routine as last time, and had gotten to the part with me hanging from the rope that Chaik was holding, when disaster struck. The Kylvn had discovered us! I heard Chaik growling above, but he was hampered by trying not to let go of the rope. I heard a crossbow thrum, and then a canine shriek.... Chaik let go when he died. I had just managed to find a handhold when the rope went slack. The top end of the rope came falling past me as I scrambled for a foothold. Then I heard grunting and scuffling from above, and looked up to see a Kylv looking down at me. I cursed him, and was grabbing my throwing dagger with my free hand when he pushed Chaik’s body over the lip. The Hrulg fell right on top of me, knocking me off the wall. I don’t know how far I fell, but somehow we got twisted around in the air and I landed on Chaik’s poor battered form. I got the wind knocked out of me, but I survived. Even in death, he was still my protector. I didn’t know how long I had before the Kylvn showed up, so I didn’t have time to build a proper cairn, which I will regret the rest of my life. I pulled the bolt from his head, however, and still carry it with me. Someday, Crafter help me, I will find the Kylv who loosed it and take Chaiksym<Chaik’s Price*> from him - slowly. This I swear. In the meantime, I had to escape. There were two tunnel openings nearby. Both were well-traveled, and had distant voices issuing from them, and both initially led down. I shouldered my packs, chose a tunnel at random and limped out, realizing that I had injured my left knee when I landed. The tunnel sloped down for a short way, then turned off to the left with a man-sized crack in the right wall. I looked through the crack, and saw a short tunnel leading off to a much larger chamber. I listened and heard no echoes coming through the small passage, so I ducked in. It was a tight fit with all my traveling gear, but I made it to the other end where I saw that the tunnel terminated in a small ledge leading along the side of a crevice near its roof. All was still and quiet, so I chanced it, moving out onto the narrow (and often unstable) ledge. It led me downward by degrees, sometimes dwindling and twice vanishing completely so that I had to break out my rope and pitons. Unfortunately, hammering pitons is not a quiet activity, and near the end of the second climb someone heard me. I heard a yell, and the sound of booted feet approaching at a run from the far end of the crevice where the ceiling dipped in a sharp arc to meet the floor. I dropped sharply down the remaining twenty feet to the top of the scree that was piled against the wall. From there it was only a forty foot slide to the crevice floor, which I noted in passing seemed to be covered by an old lava flow. I retrieved my rope in an instant, and started running for the other end of the chasm, my injured knee forgotten. The floor sloped up in front of me, but I could see that it was leading toward another tunnel - presumably the site of the entrance of the lava. With any luck, that tunnel would lead to the open mouth of a volcano, by which I could climb sunside where I hoped that they would decline to follow. I failed to remember that luck was not with me that day. In fact, the tunnel led by way of a long slow curve to another large chamber. This one was lit, glowing in red and orange. I slowed my headlong approach, worried that I was about to tumble into an active volcano, but I noticed as I paused that I felt no heat. I also noticed the low murmur of voices. I crept toward the entrance, mindful of my pursuers but wary of running into, say, the whole Kylvn army. As I came closer, I realized I could hear Yrch voices as well. Kylv AND Yrch?! Some kind of unholy alliance, no doubt. I told myself I’d have to warn someone, if I could ever get out - a prospect which at that point seemed in doubt. Finally, when my pursuers sounded as if they were just beyond sight around the bend in the passage behind me, I came to an intersection in the tunnel. Another tunnel, this one obviously carved by hands instead of by nature, crossed the passage I was in some thirty yards before the cavern opened. Without pausing to consider, I dodged into the left-hand tunnel and started off again at a run. I quickly realized that the tunnel I was following was curving around to the right. I soon passed a tunnel that led off to the left, and could see beyond it a full intersection, lit from the right by the illumination from the cavern. I continued on ahead, surmising that the passage I was following led around some sort of council chamber and had been put there to enable lesser persons to come and go without disturbing those within. I hoped that if I could get at least partway around without being seen, I could dodge into a passage without anyone ever knowing which way I had gone. I was moving across the intersection I had seen when I heard a grand commotion in the council chamber. I risked a quick glance and saw that apparently my pursuers had barreled right into the middle of the negotiations. I heard the Kylvn word for Dwarf, and the Yrchen word for traitors. I scurried on. I passed one more full intersection, then took a little-used passageway that led only off to the left. I concluded that the whole damn Kylvn army would be after me soon, but I was rapidly tiring and my knee was beginning to ache - badly. I ran on for perhaps another mile when the path was crossed by another small crevice. I crawled through the opening to the right, and after twisting and turning for about twenty feet, the floor dropped out from under me and I fell another ten. It was very dark where I was now, but by my limited Darksight and by feeling around, I discovered that I had landed in a small chamber perhaps ten feet by fifteen. There were no exits other than the way I had come in and an almost vertical chimney even higher up, and I decided that it would make a marvelous place to camp. I sat down and fell asleep almost at once.
I don’t know how long I slept, but at least I slept undisturbed. When I at length awoke, I took stock. Gear, more or less intact. Left knee, twisted pretty soundly. Rest of the body, more or less intact. Visual, dark. Auditory, quiet. Depth, approximately 630 yards. Exits, ten feet up leading to the west, and thirty feet up, leading steeply up to the north. I examined the climb to the higher passage, and determined it possible. I was correct, and soon after found myself in another rough chamber, with a wooden door set in one wall. It opened onto a hewn tunnel, and from there life became an endless series of sneaking and hiding, sometimes for hours and once for two days. My sense of direction is fairly good, but few of the passages ended up leading in the direction that they started toward, so it was a very tense eleven days before I managed to reach the surface. I reached the surface in the center of a thicket in the middle of the woods. I came out through a natural fissure so small that I had to push all my packs out ahead of me, then take off my armor and exhale to fit through. Even then I lost a couple of layers of skin. It was late in the day when I emerged, and I traveled on through the day and well into the night before I stopped. Once I was no longer moving, I basically passed out. I spent the next day (yesterday) in the ritual of Kyre-Sul<Keening the Dead>, to finally show proper mourning for Chaik. I don’t know how I’ll go on without him - but somehow, I’ll have to. Unfortunately, I have no idea where in Xaria I am.
* The Price referred to here is the ancient Dwarven custom of Blood-Price, now mostly fallen into disuse. There was a chart that measured out, in gold, the price of unlawfully committing damage to a Dwarf - so much for an eye, so much for an arm, so much for a death. If the person could not pay in gold, then the price was taken out of his body - quickly or slowly as the injured party (or his representatives) demanded. It was usually done slowly.
** Here, Mrin refers to the legendary ability of the Dwarves to determine approximate depth and direction when underground. No hard facts are available to explain how it is done, for no Dwarf will tell you. They might not even know, it being supposedly as natural to them as sight. Several theories have been posited, such as listening to the barely audible sounds of the rock moving, or tasting it to determine age, or even communing with the rock on a spiritual level, but it all remains inconclusive.
BOOK 32, PAGE 102
Furlitk 11, 496
Well, it would seem that I am in Gesnor. I finally came across a village today, and was able to go in and pick up a few supplies. I was disgruntled to learn that in the twenty-six days since I left the mountain, I’ve come only eighty linear leagues. But, no help for it - now that Chaik is...gone...I’m on my own two feet and it’s going to take me considerably longer that I had originally anticipated. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how to ride a horse, or even a pony. Hrulg, at least, you can communicate with!
BOOK 32, PAGE 103
Mydyarsdi, 496
Here it is Mydyarsdi, and I’m not even to the Orenvale border yet. I should be there sometime late tomorrow. To celebrate the holiday, I actually went into a village Inn and had a drink. I can’t believe what these humans call liquor! I’ve gotten a better buzz from a mountain stream. Absolute piss water. There won’t be any more of that, I can tell you! I’ve been avoiding the villages before this one. One thing my Chan-Rhiu drilled into my head is that Humans see all Dwarves as ‘rich’ <that word is given in Human -J>. He told me that they’d be as likely to rob me as give me directions. Nice, huh? Besides, most of their villages smell awful. Obviously no one out here has ever seen an aqueduct.... On the plus side, while having my drink I met a nice young Hobbit! His name is Jayfoot Bloomrose, and he has agreed to guide me to the Orenvale Council, and introduce me. I’ve recorded our conversation here, as well as I remember it: The scene: I wearily shuffle through the doors of the only Inn in the village, and stumble up to the bar. I hear a voice speak behind me, from about my height, saying "What is a female Dwarf doing outside Thorin?" I turn and look at him, bleary-eyed. When I recognize that he's a Hobbit, I perk up considerably. "I'm on a quest, actually. In fact, I could use your help." "Barkeep, a drink for this Dwarf." "Much appreciated, friend. Tell me, how close are we to the Orenvale border?" "At least a day's travel. I have been in and out of Thorin many times and it is quite rare to see a female Dwarf. Even rarer to see one outside Thorin. Should we talk in a booth?" "Preferably. I'm headed to the Shire, to seek the Old Lore of the Hobbits in helping me locate a Dragon. The Dwarves believe that they're all dead, but they tend to be rather short-sighted on this particular topic." I pause, then continue, "I've never actually met a Hobbit before, although I'm told our two races were once quite close. Do you travel outside of Orenvale often?" Moving to a more private booth, he replies, "Our races would be the oldest after the Elves." "I've never seen an Elf, either. I'm rather looking forward to it." "But there are very few similarities besides size and our uneasiness with what Elves call Magik. How many Hobbits have you seen?" "You would be the first, and I'm very glad to have met you!" I signal the barkeep to order the next round. "Can you tell me of your Lore-Masters? Where might I find them?" "You can find them in the Central Shire. It is almost dead center in Orenvale. On your question about do I travel outside of Orenvale often, that would be yes. I am one of the few struck with what my people call the Wanderlust." "Excellent! The Crafter has guided me to you! Have you ever seen a Dragon in your wanderings?" "No I have not seen one. Not many that do would be around to talk about it. I have seen a Drake, but they are much smaller and not as intelligent." "How much smaller? Do they have any of the abilities of the larger ones - breathing fire and all that?" "Well, you see those humans over there?" "Smell them, rather, but yes." "They are about twice my size, yes?" "Yes..." "That is the rumour I have heard between a drake and a dragon. Drakes are about the size of a small house." "Half of a dragon, eh? I wonder if that would be big enough..." I pause, musing. "Big enough for what?" "This is rather embarrassing, but I have visions, you see. I have had a vision of what looks to be the talons of a dragon, holding an artifact that is very important to my people. I am determined to find it. I was wondering if the talons of a drake would be big enough to match what I have seen." "The talons of a drake would be just shorter then I." "Mayhap, indeed. Where did you see this drake?" "This Drake!! Milady, Drakes are plentiful. I have seen them on the East and West Coasts of Xaria. The northern highlands and the southern lowlands." "Plentiful where? Not in the mountains of my homeland - we'd have had them all roasted for entrees by now. And this is my first time away from the mountain...." I look away, and take a large drink. "Well then, I suppose I'd best start looking in Uragoth. Perchance the ones there, if they have it not, might direct me thence..." "The Lore Masters will know more. I have never spent much time recording my adventures. 30+ years will do that for you." "If you are one of the few who travel, you should by all means record your adventures. And if you can, please send a copy to the Chan-Rhiu of Goldriver Hold - he'd love to read it!" I motion to the bartender to order another round. "No, my friend - you got the last round! Barkeep, stop with this weak swill. I know you have a cask of real Dwarven Ale. Open that and start pouring!" "Very well, I don't want to start an argument with the first civilized person I've met on my road. Thank you." "You should see what they have back there. I mean I was just walking around and they have - whoops! Drinks are here. You're right, barkeep, I promised to be quiet." "Really? To tell the truth, I've been avoiding human habitation ere now. I went into one, and was served something foul enough that I left immediately. And the smell! I only stopped in here by chance, to re-supply. Are you by any possibility heading toward your homeland, as opposed to away? I would be most grateful for a guide!" "I have not been back for a while and my father has sent word asking for me. I will be heading into the Shire." "May I accompany you?" "Aye, I would love the company!" "My thanks, my friend. By the by, how much do Hobbits still use their Old language?" "I still speak and write the Old Hobbitish language. Also Dwarven and Elvish." "Most well - I managed to pick up some from old trade agreements and such, but I could use some brushing up.... By the way, how are you called so that I may thank you by name?" "Jayfoot Bloomrose, at your service." "Well met, Jayfoot Bloomrose. My name is Mrin Greyhammer, called The Disobedient, and I am in your debt. Now tell me, friend Jayfoot, do you think it's safe to sleep on the premises?" "How are you traveling - by foot or mount? It has been a while since I have seen a Hrulg! We should be safe to sleep on premises although there is a cost involved." "By foot." I look very grim when I say it. "My Hrulg was killed by Drow in the StkaHolbyt. The cost of the room is of little import." "I am sorry. I thought I was the only one who still used the StkaHolbyt. It has become a dangerous journey." "Well do I know it. When I reach the Hall of your Loremasters I must send a letter to Collosum, warning them of the Drow's near approach to the belly of the city." "They will never learn how to open the riik. It took me days but it was fun figuring it out!" "You did what?!" "It took a little time, but when you remove the rocks in a certain order they do not reappear. Then you will find a keyhole. That wasn't very hard to open. Unfortunately the rocks reappear whenever the door shuts and you have to start again." (At this point I am spluttering incoherently with sheer amazement.) "The Drow have been down there for years. They think no one knows, but the Orcs are not very subtle or intelligent." "Hmmm. Grim news. If the Hobbits have not already sealed their end permanently, it might be wise to suggest it to your Council." "The Shire council rarely gets involved in war. They are mostly traders and farmers. We do grow the best leaf in the land! I have informed the Elves of the situation and the mannish races in the area." "I actually smoke your leaf! My father imports some every year." "We thank him then." "However, war can appear on your doorstep uninvited. I know how to drop the tunnel, and I will offer this knowledge to your Council." "You can suggest it but they will discuss it for years." "Perhaps we should just do it along the way. An accidental rockslide, if anyone asks." "That might be better. I will miss the shortcut into Thorin though." "As far as I know, you and I are the only two who have been into the Stka in centuries. Except, of course, for the Dark races. But how much of a short-cut will it be when the Drow have used it to invade your homeland? Besides, you should still be able to access it shortly inside the Gesnor border. Only the ends have the rigged collapse." "You would be amazed at the traps on my side of the Stka. You think the disappearing rocks were tough! BARKEEP, one last round and then we will need two rooms for the night!" "Suit yourself. We'll keep it open." I yawn. "No, you are right we should collapse it. The kylv and the yrch are not subtle and will not see the beauty in the doors - they will just destroy the whole entry to enter." "Agreed then." I pause, then add, "And if you're good enough to get through Dwarven traps - and Ancient ones at that! - you DEFINITELY need to be writing down your adventures!" "Someone else has mentioned that once. Pernum Darkstorme, an old friend and a great bard. I tell him to just write me into his adventures." "Pernum Darkstorme? Is he still alive? Perhaps he would have the answers I need - if only one could get them out of him." "Aye. He best be alive because if what my father has written me is true I will need his help." "How so?" "The Shire Council members have started to have dreams. They are apocalyptic in nature. Hobbit dreams have a tendency to come true. Since I have chosen to wander, the Council has chosen me to find if the dreams are true." "As it so happens, I believe in dreams. Will you relate them to me on our walk tomorrow?" "Aye, I will." We finish our drinks, and seek the rooms that the Innkeeper has prepared for us. "Sleep well and dream peacefully. We do not need to wake early to reach the Shire by nightfall." "And bolt your door. Dream well!"
(EDITOR’S NOTE: most of the rest of her books and scrolls have been lost to time or her travels. From what we have been able to piece together, she studied for a while at Orenvale, then braved the StkaYlvn to Doro Y’Edhel. This time she was alert for the presence of the Dark Races, so that when she encountered them under Chalter Medrium and Doro Y’Edhel she managed to evade them. Once in Dun Y’Estel, she studied for two months with SuraLi, the Keeper of the Library of the Elves, digging up all the lore she could on behaviors, hordes, and lairs of Dragons. Most of this confirmed what she already knew, which was that she was going to have to go into Uragoth to look for them. Not all of them lived there, but enough to make it a likely starting point. She managed to survive for nearly two weeks in Uragoth before her inevitable capture by an Orc/Drow raiding party. She escaped twice, but as she was on foot and alone it wasn’t long before she was captured both times. When asked later why she thought they hadn’t killed her, she replied, “Because I amused them, I suppose. Look,” and showed the burn marks on her back and legs where they tortured her for fun. Finally, after three months, she managed her final escape (though she would never discuss exactly how), and this time managed to steal a steed as well. She evaded their clutches and finally made it, freezing, bleeding and barely conscious, to the garrison town of Holemn past the border of Quivera. Once inside, she traded the horse to the Innkeeper for lodging, and collapsed in the doorway. She grew ill, and spent most of the next week delirious, while her Inn tab kept mounting. Finally, the Hostess took pity on her and moved her to the house of the Army Healer, who was delighted to have something to do in the middle of winter, for the armies wouldn’t move again until spring. He treated her throughout the course of her fever, and by the end of February she had finally become coherent again. To facilitate her recovery, she began working with the garrison’s Armourer, trading work and advice for room, board and some coins, which she used to pay off the Innkeep and Healer. By the end of August, she had recovered enough to move on, and had acquired enough cash to purchase herself some clothes and supplies. She took with her the blades she had made at the Armourer’s as demonstration pieces, and headed for Irroquin. She had heard that all of the information of the world came through Irroquin, and she wanted a piece of it. She traded odd jobs on the way south to keep herself fed and for wagon rides, and by early October had arrived in the port city of Connach. The scroll that follows was mailed from Connach to the Chan-Rhiu of Goldriver Hold. -J)
(SCROLL) Wunderfiltk 11, 497
I’ve finally made it to one of the Irroquin ports, a large town named Connach. I make my way to the Hall of Travelers, following directions of the locals. With a minimum of wrong turns, I arrive and contact one of the Hall officials to arrange for my posting. I’ve been told several times, “If you don’t pay, it doesn’t stay.” The transaction handled, and my official number obtained, I post a note that reads: ‘Wanted - verifiable information on the whereabouts of Dragons, preferably living ones. This information may be worth much. Please leave messages with the Hall addressed to this posting number. Thank you.’ I post in Human, Dwarven, Elven and Old Hobbit, just to make sure. As I’m putting it up, I notice that a human has come up behind me, and is reading over my shoulder. He exclaims in Dwerrow, "Dragons! You know they haven't been seen in nearly 250 years. Chances are VERY slim that anyone will have any information for you.” I reply, "Yes, that's the rumor. However, if I cannot find them alive, which is my preference, I at least need to know where they laired. Have you traveled far, good youth?” “I might be able to assist you, perhaps we can retire to a less public place? I have traveled all my life, and know much of these lands. A drink perhaps?” "A drink would be welcome - I have only just arrived. Can you recommend a decent tavern?" “Most of these ramshackle tents around these Halls have a fairly good selection. How did you come to find yourself so far from Thorin? I must say you make an unusual sight on the roads of Xaria...” “Well, that's a long story. Best told over a long drink.” I gesture for him to lead the way, and walk close beside him, humming softly to myself. He leads over to the Inn/tent that appears the nicest. We find a table and order some drinks.... He begins, "I think we may be able to help one another, you see.... I know something of dragons, and you seem to know something of Drow. You find me on my way north, to see what I can learn of the Ylv - Kylv war. Perhaps we might exchange some stories?” "Kylv!" I spit. "(and I string off some Dwarven that he’s not sure the exact translation of, but he knows it's not polite.)” I then give him the brief version of my travels through the war zone, all of which I have already written. “I understand that they are a great enemy. And from what you have told me, you have much reason to curse them. However, I think that they are a danger to more than you or I. And I must go see their plans, their ideas. My goddess expects nothing less from me.” “Your goddess wants to send you to torture and death? Time to find a new religion.” “I will not be tortured. I have a great deal of experience staying concealed.” "Would that I had had some when I started. I've learned some now - the hard way. In any case, you can find them here, here, here, and here,...." I start drawing a map in ale on the table, and marking out the enemy locations. “One moment, my lady. I have a map in my case here....” “Better yet! By the by, what is your name, young friend?” He eagerly gets out his map and charcoal, and puts small characters on the map wherever I point out Drow locations. “I am so sorry, in my excitement to speak with thee.... I am Zachary D'Nath, Witness of Torma.” "An honor and a pleasure, sir. I am Mrin Greyhammer, called the Disobedient. Pardon my boldness, but who is Torma?” “She is the goddess I serve. She chronicles Xaria, and it is through my questing eyes that she sees the land.” He betrays some surprise at the number of Drow locations, especially the underground ones in Gesnor. “You alone? That's one heck of a lot of responsibility. Hmmph - I should let her read my diaries sometime....” “There are others like me, until very recently in history we have kept ourselves secret from those around us. Do not be surprised if she has already seen your journals. She has already heard your tale though mine ears, and you are now in her ledger.” “Well, I'm in a goddess' ledger. I'm flattered. A toast, then, to Torma.” “To Torma.” (He sneaks a bless spell, which he passes to me when we clink mugs.) I also give him approximate troop strengths. “But now, friend Zachary, have you heard rumor of any dragon lairs of old?” “I am afraid that I may have no new information for you. You see, I know that Drakken used to lair in what is now called Uragoth. However, I know that they haven't been seen since the year 250, disappearing the same month the heavens turned the color of blood.... Is this helpful to you?” “Well, I've already been into Uragoth to look for them, and I'm NOT going back until I have a much larger force at my back. Or a ring of invisibility, or some such aid. I'm actually on my way back to Thorin now, to see if I can round up some help. Also, perhaps, to see if I can convince some of the Dwarves to enter the war. I've heard something about an apocalypse, you see - do you happen to have any information on that?” “Well, the apocalypse. You see, I had really thought that I had heard rumor on the road, but, with you now mentioning it, I find myself more apprehensive. I do know something of the Apocalypse. May I ask, why do you seek Drakken?” “It has to do with a legend, and a dream. Long, long ago, when the world was young, a special mace was made of our most precious metal, by one of our deities. Upon it was engraved all the lineage of our kings. A few millenia ago, it was stolen by the cursed Yrch. I have had a dream - actually several - detailing it to me, and it is currently in the Drakken clutches. I. will. find. it. It is called Suruk-Than, the Mace of Kings.” “I have heard of the mace, and I would enjoy helping you find it. However, I am currently seeking another Dwarven relic, for a friend who once helped me.” “Of what race was the friend? Bartender - more ale!” “He is human, I believe. He is seeking Valkirk's Anvil, which was promised to him by his Dwarven master. Both were smithy, you see.” “A human studying with a Dwarf? What was his name - the human's?” “He uses the name Garn while travelling these roads.” “Ga-... oh, yes, Garn. I do recall hearing of him. Yes, he was studying with the Mastersmith - a lucky fellow, indeed. I must admit - people in my Hold thought it was a joke when we heard. Kind of like 'did you hear the one about...'” “It has been too long since I have taken drink with a Dwarf! To our success in the coming months!” “To our success! I wish you luck in finding the Anvil.” “You know, I recently overheard a drunken man say something about Dragon blood, now what was it.....” “Oh?” I lean forward. “He was most reluctant to talk, saying that what he knew, "'ould bloody change ever'thing, mate. Nobody left the same. Ever' bleedin' one of us, ferever." I kept pressing him, but he would not say much more until I bought him several more mugs of drink. Then, finally, after downing something called an Orcish Slaughter, he turned to me and said seriously, without a hint of his former drunkeness: "They say the dragons are gone. They are gone, mate. All of 'em." He leaned in close to me. "But their blood lives on, mate. Their blood lives on." Then his eyes fluttered, and before I could get in another word, he fell to the bar with a crash, slid off his stool and ended in a heap in the sawdust on the floor.” “Oh, my. I wonder how their blood could live on without them? And of course, the next question is where.... Tell me - was he still alive?” “Yes, he was alive, passed out. The next morning I tried to seek him out again, but he was gone. No one knew his name or where he had gone. I really think that the disappearance of the dragons has something to do with the coming apocalypse. You see, Torma has spoken to us, she has said that in the year 500, something of great import will occur. She says she cannot yet see the outcome, it is too hazy. But we all must be there, witnessing what will come. The Blood Sky Omen of 250, the Apocalypse of 500. Have you heard of a Khamn named Tarrik?” “The coming apocalypse,” I sigh. “I know the world is coming to its end, when the Dwarves grow so slack as to allow the Dark Races into our Stkan. But yes, I have heard rumour of Tarrik, and his quest. Poor fellow, it's lucky he's still alive. Have you met the man himself?” “No, I have not. I would very much like to, though. What do you know of him?” “Half the world applauds him, the other half thinks he's a danger and is bringing the apocalypse himself. I know the Ylvn Council is keeping a close eye on him. Does Torma know where the apocalypse will be triggered? You'll probably meet him there.” “She has not yet told us. It is VERY rare for her to communicate so openly with the Eyes. The fact that she has done so leads me to believe that there are truly earth-shattering events coming....” “Tell me, how does Torma watch through you? She's welcome to do the same through me, if she wants.” “You are returning to Thorin, you said? I was hesitating to mention this, worried that you might misinterpret me, but, the Goldriver Hold has offered a reward for your safe return. Perhaps home isn't as safe as you were hoping?” “They what?!” “I saw it posted further to the south. Your return gets the person who brings you pick from the masters horde one item.” “Well, of all the - probably my father. He thinks I'm a complete idiot - a danger to myself and others, you know? Really, he just doesn't want me to find the Mace. There are a contingent of Dwarves who feel that way - who are happy with the Warder Kings, as kings that they can control.” I sigh again. “Perhaps you should be more careful as to who you give your name. Please be assured that you need not fear me. You asked of Torma?” “Thank you very much for the information, my friend, I am in your debt. And yes - if Torma needs more eyes, she's welcome to ride along in mine. There is much more journeying ahead of me.” “Truly!? Let me teach you this short prayer. It will allow Torma observe to world around you. Her presence will help you as well.”
“My Lady Torma, my five senses are to you.
Through my eyes, see the world around me, My ears find the sounds for you to hear, My nose, breathing life for you to live, Through my lips you speak on this world. My hands are your powerful hands.
Lady Torma, my five senses are to you.”
“This will be most powerful if you speak it in your mother tongue. I have never translated it, can we do that together?” I repeat it after him, first in Human and then in Dwerrow:
“Torma Onen, ylkenmreet suset remme Mu
Resa dizen suset, dizan Chimmel sutenel Illen suset iloinn nokken Mu ilel, Mog suset, hurn remme Mu remme, Resa noken suset Mu kalin Chimmel, Lugren suset remme Lugrenurss Muset.
Torma Onen, ylkenmreet suset remme Mu.”
"Interesting. I do feel sort of different. More relaxed, really. I think I like your goddess. You said she almost never speaks back to you? Pity, that. I'd like to ask her where the Crafter is.” “She has never spoken to me. Her communication goes through the Eyes, the leader of our sect. The current Eyes is a man named Albernath. He is in Northern Akkoria.” “Perhaps I'll send word to him to ask him when I get home. Hmmm. If I get home. This reward business will be a problem, especially the closer I get. If it was father, he probably first sent word to the Veldren Knights of Gesnor - he communicates with them regularly. I'm surprised I haven't been picked up by a squad of them already.” “They are a difficult group to work with. Their intent is pure, their approach is sometimes...how shall I say this...confused?” “That's very polite of you. Oh, well - it's probably the cold that freezes their senses. Don't they know that if you live that far north, you should live underground? Bartender - more ale!” “Perhaps not. We humans do not feel comfortable under the earth. Although, I would love to someday see the Keeps of Thorin. Well milady, I feel that I must retire. Shall we meet again?” “By all means, friend Zachary. Tell me, do you know of anywhere in town decent enough to stay, perhaps with baths? I must smell like the lair of a sick Hrulg....” “I too am fairly new to this town. I usually find somewhere on the outskirts to sleep, under a tree or such. Perhaps the barwench will know of an Inn?” “Perhaps.” I call over the barwench, get directions, and ask Zachary if he would like to accompany me. “No thank thee. I am more comfortable away from the trappings of city life. And I must start out early in the morn on my travels north. I hope to reach the Galluran border within this moon....” “Then fare you well wherever you fare. May your goddess receive you at your journey's end.” “May the Crafter bless your search. I hope that I shall meet you again, Mrin. And don't forget, Torma is watching....goodbye.” With that, he walks away with his pack on his back, having left a silver on the table for the ale. As he goes, I mutter under my breath, “Somehow, I get the funny feeling that we shall meet again, indeed....”
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Mrin stayed in Irroquin until spring, waiting to see if there was any response to her posting (there wasn’t - at least, there wasn’t anything useful), and earning herself enough money to travel again. She earned quite a tidy sum working for a local blacksmith, inventing several more efficient ways to make some necessary ship fittings. At night, she made herself a battle axe and some plate mail, and several small daggers and swords to sell at the outrageous Irroquin prices. She then took ship for Quivera, planning to sail north as far as she could and then go overland up to Thorin, to talk to the Dwarven Council as she mentioned above and to get a new Hrulg companion. Unfortunately, on her way, she was captured by a band of mercenaries who had also heard of her father’s reward. This time, her captors did not mistreat her, but they did slow her down tremendously as they detoured and stopped along the way to take other jobs. It wasn’t until late August that she managed to escape from them with the help of a Nost’Karean she met at a faire that she was allowed to go to under guard, to make sure that the mercs got a good price on some gems that they had managed to acquire. From the Nost’Karean, she got sleeping powder that she managed to get into the mercenaries’ drinking water, and she tied them all and slipped out in the middle of the night on foot. From there, she made her way once again toward Thorin, stopping in the next town to send a post to her Chan-Rhiu asking him to meet her in Collosum at the riikStkaHolbyt. The second weekend in September found her in the town of Mulcott in Palrim, at the time of the Sacred Woods Festival. While there, she ....
Appendix A: Dwarven (and Hobbit, Hobbit names being given in italics) calendar
The first day of every year is on a Settrdi, and the last day is on a Fryydi. Mydyarsdi (Midyear’s Day), and in leap years Oburlitk (Overlithe) which followed Mydyarsdi, had no actual weekday designation. The Litk (Lithe) before Mydyar was Litk 1, and the Litk after Mydyar was Litk 2. Likewise, the Yul (Yule) at the end of the year was Yul 1, and that at the beginning of the year was Yul 2. A copy of the Shire calendar is appended separately.
Day names: Settrdi (Saturday) Soondi (Sunday) Muddi etc. Tosdi Woddsdi Torinsdi Fryydi
RiugulenDwerrow - Kamn (Dwerrow to Human Dictionary)
general language agil : v. to bless, n. blessing, adj. blessed chaik: v. to jump chan: n. master, teacher Chimmel: n. the planet on which Xaria is a continent. It has no plural, for there is only one. Anything in human which refers to ‘the world’ translates to this. destt: v. to split, n. split, adj. split di: n. day dizan: v. to see, n. sight druug: n. tunnel gul: n. word hurn: v. to breathe, n. breath ilel: v. to hear, n. hearing iloinn: v. to find k- : adj. dark kaai: n. hall kalin: v. to speak, (cap.) to speak the truth kanin: v. to speak falsely kayin: n. marshal, general krimc: v. to fight; specifically, to do battle with in the cause of right kreck: n. war ku: n. spirit kull: n. cup, goblet kyre: n. keening (kyr : v. to keen or howl) mrin: adj. reckless, disobedient nokk: n. sound onen: n. lady; specifically, as in a woman of refined qualities, not just a female remme: v. to live, to be, n. life, being resa: adv., prep. through rg-: adj. slow, heavy rhiu: n. lore, history rhiugulen: n. dictionary (lit. lore of words) rigen: n. warder, watcher riik: n. gate ronn: adj. clever rt-: adj. quick, light sach: v. to tend, to keep skran: n. time; specifically, as in the time for a definable event. Stka: n. way, highway. Always capitalized, used to denote major thoroughfares only. sul: adj. dead, n. the dead suruk: n. mace sym: n. price, usually blood-price. tenel: adv., prep. around than: n. king trialt: v. to contemplate. Used in the name, Trialtz, one who contemplates. tur : adj. deep, in the sense of far underground, not as in deep water ursek: n. mountain urss: adj. powerful. This comes from the same root as the word mountain. wrul: adj. swift ylk: n. sense, as in one of the five, not as in common sense, or sense of direction. (pl. ylken) -z: adv. one who performs the action of the verb to which this is attached. Ex: sachz = tender, one who tends. Grammatical note: this is a generalization, not an absolute rule in Dwerrow grammar.
body parts ala : n. foot altin : n. brow, forehead bragt : n. heart den : n. arm diz : n. eye il : n. ear. Plural illen khi : n. neck lugr : n. hand mog : n. nose nidd : n. tooth nok : n. lip
Dwerrow numbers zero - brilk one - tork two - seel three - myk four - chad five - mreet six - terr seven - doit eight - nedge nine - krill ten - trull
twenty - seeltrul thirty - myktrul etc.
one hundred - loik two hundred - seeloik three hundred - mykloik etc.
one thousand - kegg two thousand - seelkeg three thousand - mykeg four thousand - chadkeg etc.
Dwerrow pronouns I, me - Su (S' in front of vowels) You, singular - Mu (M' as above) You, plural - Rhu (Rh') He, him - pur She, her - nur they (people) - orec they (things)- surr it (thing) - limm it (person, non-gender specific) - kor
Other notes:
Dwarves don't use 'my lady' and 'my lord', just lady and lord (think madam and sir).
Adjectives and adverbs follow the word they modify, and are usually (not always!) attached to become one word. Proper names are the biggest exception. Usually in a proper name, the modifier comes first, and is often hyphenated to the noun.
Dwarves have no modifier for the infinitive of the verb. 'to hear' is only ilel, not 'to' ilel.
Articles such as 'to', 'for', and 'the' are assumed, and have no direct translation.
-n or -en is the usual plural. Once again, there are exceptions.
Dwerrow possessives are formed by attaching -set to the end of the pronoun. For example, his becomes purset, my becomes suset, etc. Literally, belonging-to-me. Also, possessives follow the posessed item. My ear becomes il suset.
translated from the Dwerrow and edited by Jamalan, disciple to Pernum Darkstorme the Historian, in the years 682 - 687.
Readers please note: Many words are the original Dwerrow, left in for the sake of accuracy either in names or where there is no exact translation. Rough translations follow in brackets. -J
BOOK 1, PAGE 1
Happy Natal Day, Kdiz. Record your dreams in this. With love, Rtala.
It’s Solmatz7* <February 10>, 464, and I’ve just turned twenty years. My older sister gave me this so I could put in writing the “very odd” dreams I have. For the last ten years, she’s the only one I have told of them, and she has been sworn to secrecy. She thinks they’re prophetic. My parents, when I first told them of the dreams, thought they were “disturbing”. There were very ominous overtones to that word. Personally, I don’t know what to think.
If they are prophetic, and someone in later centuries digs up my diaries to find out what actually happened, let me give you some salient details of my life so far. When I was born, my parents named me Kdiz<Dark-of-eye>, for my eyes are nearly black, which is very unusual for Dwarves. Most of our eyes are brown or grey - basically stone-coloured. Sometimes we have golden-eyed children, and they are always thought to be lucky. My mother, Agil-Onen<Blessed Lady> from the Silverblade clan, has the golden eyes. Black-eyed children are frequently thought to be ‘touched’ - that is, leaning slightly toward madness. That’s certainly what my father thought. I think I’ve managed to convince him otherwise, but only by keeping my mouth shut about my dreams. More on that later. I was my parents’ third child, and second daughter, and my mother is held in high honor for that. My brother Trialtz<the Contemplative> and elder sister Rtala<Quick-foot> are normal in every respect, and throughout my childhood I often got the feeling that people regarded me with a sort of ‘well, they were lucky to have her at all - what can they expect?’ attitude. My father’s name is Rgaltin<Heavy-brow>, and he is of the Greyhammer clan. He is a grim, decisive man, perfect for his office as Duke of the Goldriver Hold.
Thanks to Rtala, I know what I did as an infant that caused my father to give me the strange looks he was favouring me with when he thought I didn’t see. As if my eyes weren’t bad enough, the first word I ever spoke was “Magma”. This wouldn’t have caused any comment in Glowing Rock or Runningstone Holds, because they are the Holds that live with the volcanoes. Goldriver Hold is miles from any volcano, and magma just isn’t a word I would have heard. Then there was my tendency to draw - well, to sketch, really. I’d use charcoal on any available surface, apparently. Besides making a mess, my father considered this a grand waste of time - but I was obsessed with it. Rtala saved some of the ones that were done on portable mediums, and showed them to me later. Early on, my sketches looked like knotty sticks. They progressed into things recognizable as maces. There aren’t many left of the later ones, the ones with figures. I remember drawing them, but they took a while, and my father would usually catch me at them and destroy them “for my own good”. The images were from my dreams - a fiery-haired woman^ with skin like living granite, standing over a forge, hammering an object. The same woman, handing the object to a man in white armor.^^ Then an intricately wrought white mace, covered in dark blood. A hideous green face, leering in the darkness. A figure with black skin and pale hair, rending the creature with the green face, and running through dark caverns. Finally, lately, gouts of flame, and large talons seizing the mace.
There are other images as well, of the woman with the forge. They don’t feel like they are connected with the others, or are only loosely connected. She’s in armor covered in black ichor, laughing and swinging a double-bladed axe. Or she’s moving stealthily down inky passages, the only light a low red gleam from her eyes. Or she’s standing over the body of a man with black hair and eyes. The latter was one of the last ones I told my father, and he shouted ‘blasphemy!’ and locked me in my rooms for a week. After that I shut up about all of this. Am I going mad? Is my imagination way too active? Should I drop my intended career of weaponsmith and become a loremaster instead? Or maybe, might I hope that I am in fact seeing Magma, the First Dwarf, herself? Is she trying to tell me something? If so, what - and why me?
*Dwarves and Hobbits use the same calendars in their regions, but the month names are pronounced slightly differently, as shown in Appendix A.
This is obviously his adult name, but Kdiz and her sister have yet to go through the naming ceremonies in their coming-of-age (at age 50) rituals.
^ Where ‘woman’ and ‘man’ are used, they are used to denote female and male Dwarves.
^^ White armor is the ceremonial armor of the hereditary King of the Dwarves, not worn since the Wars of Annihilation. It is made of Kuursek <Mountain’s Spirit>, an inherently magical metal that, while it is most difficult to work, weighs only slightly more than steel but is virtually unbreakable. Due to the extreme scarcity of this metal, it is almost NEVER found outside the Dwarven Kingdom.
BOOK 5, PAGE 145
Mydyarsdi<Midyear’s Day> 469
Today was a day of wonders! Today, for the first time, I saw the sun!
It is the custom of the Dwarves that on the first Mydyarsdi past our twentififth birthday, we go out from under the mountain and visit the Hannoks<’Gardens’ where the herbs and vegetables are tended that must grow sunside –J>. We are also taken to the Hrulg* dens, to spend a few hours with the Hrulg-Sachz<Hrulg-tenders> learning the proper whistles and calls.
We were taken up early this morning, myself and three others from Goldriver Hold. None of us had ever been sunside before, although we were luckier than most of the tweeners from the other Holds, for in our hold you can at least see sunlight. There is a shaft of fairly clear quartz running from the apex of our Hearth, right above the Liferock, to the south side of the surface of the mountain high up near the perpetual snowline. Starting on the first day of spring and ending on the last day of fall, at noon of each clear day that quartz refracts sunlight down into the Hearth and onto the Liferock. Our particular Liferock has thin veins of gold running through it, and thicker veins of ruby. When the sunlight hits it, it looks like it’s on fire. Today, shortly before noon of course, the entire Hold gathered at the Hearth for the Bragt-Skran<Heart-time>, our yearly ceremony where the sunlight reflects perfectly into the ruby veins. The skies above were clear, and the Liferock began to glow right on cue. The light seems to swell the Liferock, giving the impression of a glowing, living heart. On years when it’s cloudy and the ‘heart’ of the Liferock does not ‘beat’, it’s considered a very bad omen for the year. Marriages and new projects will be put off until after Yul. But I digress.
The four of us from Goldriver met in the Kaai-Rhiu<Hall of Lore> at the sixth hour of morning. The Chan-Rhiu<Master of Lore> met us there, and led us up the unfamiliar passages to the Kaai-Kreck<Hall of War>, the mustering chamber right before the main gate. We waited there for the rest of the tweeners, two from Opalcleft Hold under the northeastern flank of our mountain and three from Rubycave Hold, far down at the mountain’s roots. The Liferock of our Hold came from Ruby Cave, and eight hundred years ago when our Hold got too crowded the splinter group formed its new Hold there. Opalcleft splintered off Goldriver a mere two hundred years ago. But I digress again in the name of history. Maybe I should become a Chan-Rhiu. In any case, the tweeners from the other Holds had farther to come.
Once everyone had arrived, our Chan-Rhiu nodded to the elder of the two Riik-Rigen< (Great)Gate^-Warders>, who produced a large and intricate Kuursek key from the pouch at his belt. With great ceremony, he inserted it into the lock, turned it thrice, and the ponderous doors silently began to swing open. Our Chan-Rhiu, seizing upon an opportunity to continue our education, began to chant the Dragon’s Rede^^, joined by the Chan-Rhiu from the other Holds. I had never heard this one before, so I listened as carefully as I could, but I didn’t get all of the words. It was about the coming of Skrerat the Vicious, the Eld Dragon that took Collosum through its Riik some six thousand years ago, and about the long fight to drive him out again. I’ll have to get the Chan-Rhiu to teach it to me.
The Riik opens onto the east side of the mountain, facing towards Collosum some forty miles distant. I took several slow steps toward the rapidly growing opening, watching the sunlight climb across the tunnel roof and down the walls, and then I could see it! The sun is magnificent! A great glowing disc, brighter than a thousand forges, and warm! Even as far away as it must be, its light felt warm on my face! Truly marvelous! I must capture this somehow. I must set its light into a blade, into a pommel - it shall be a bane against the creatures of the Dark! If I can only get my hands on some Kuursek.... <What follows is several hasty sketches of various blade designs, that will appear again in later forge blueprints from her fortieighth year. She does make the blade, but I leave out these sketches in favor of the later ones. -J>
Once I got sunside, I could see that the outer surface of the Riik was sculpted to appear as part of the cliff face. Kind of silly, really, since there is a fairly obvious road leading up the side of the mountain towards it, but I suppose it made sense when the new Holds were first started.... Our Chan-Rhiu gathered us all into a group and started identifying the nearby mountains for us - after all, it was the first time any of us had seen them from the outside. “This mountain is called Skraet<the Pike>, as you all well know,” he began. “The peak directly in front of us is Khi-Destt<Split Neck>, housing the Rubywalk and Silverlake Holds...” <A lengthy description follows. For simplicity’s sake, please refer to P. Darkstorme’s Book of Xarian Geography, p. 704 “Thorin According To The Dwarves, translation”. -J>
There are also a few lesser paths leading away from the Riik in various directions, and we started along one that curved up the mountain to the right. It took us perhaps three quarters of an hour to climb the steep trail to the Hannoks. Ours are nestled in a small valley whose only sunside entrance is a narrow cleft in the side of the mountain. At the back of the cleft, of course, is the door to the access tunnel, but today was our day to approach from the path. The Hannoks look rather like this: <A rough sketch follows, with brief descriptions of various herbs. Please see Appendix C. -J>
After exiting the Hannoks, we continued up the trail. It was much narrower here, and visibly less traveled. Soon we came to a natural stair, leading up near the snow-line. It leveled off some fifty cubits below the perpetual snow, and branched off in several directions. Sitting slightly beyond the fork was what could only have been the Hrulg-Sachz, a very scruffy-looking fellow with an uncombed beard, dressed in furs and holding a longstaff. He had bright, quick eyes however, and with these fixed our Chan-Rhiu. “’Bout time,” he teased good-naturedly. The two exchanged some banter, and led us around the peak to the nearest den. I was at the front of our little group, and so was the first able to reach out for one of the two Hrulg pups playing in front of the den. I almost had him when not one, but two forms interposed. One was the Hrulg-Sachz, and the other was the mother Hrulg. Both of them growled at me. I jumped. What followed was a period of introduction, of all of us tweeners to the basic lore of the Hrulg, and to the whistles and calls, and to the Hrulg herself. While we were being lectured and practicing, however, the little one I had reached for had discovered me on his own, and kept butting my leg. When he started to nibble, however, the Sachz lifted him away from me. It turns out the pup’s name was Nidd<Toothy>. I think he liked me. I wonder if my father will let me go visit him occasionally?
In any case, we had been out long enough that we had to scurry back to be in time for the Bragt-Skran. I’ve never seen the Chan-Rhiu move so fast in my life. Unfortunately, it left me no time to ask him about possibly becoming one myself....
* Hrulg do not have a direct translation, because there is nothing in the Human world quite like them. Essentially, they are a very large breed of quasi-domestic canid that the Dwarves occasionally employ as mounts.
the year categories of young Dwarves roughly translate to the following:
0-9: teners
11-19: teeners
20-29: tweeners
30-39: threeners
40-49: forthers
riik is the Dwerrow word for gate. It is capitalized, Riik, only in the case of the Main or Great Gate of every mountain.
^ A copy of the Dragon’s Rede appears later in the same book. Kdiz had apparently liked the song, so she copied it from the Lore-Master’s texts. I have placed a copy in both Dwerrow and Human in Appendix B. -J
BOOK 25, PAGE 143
Furlitk 30, 489
Litk 1 is tomorrow, beginning the three-day celebration. Bloody good thing, because last night was one more night spent in the forge because I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I fell into one of those strange dreams. I haven’t had the dreams in over a decade - why start again now? That’s the fourth night in a row. Oddly, now all the dreams have me in them. Me, topside, in the upper world away from the mountains. Frankly, it’s terrifying. The first night I was on one of the Hrulg, running through a forest. The next night I was in a large room surrounded by Humans - and may I say, that alone was enough to convince me that these are something more than dreams, because I couldn’t possibly have imagined some of the ridiculous things that I saw those Humans wearing. The night before last I was riding a horse - a horse, mind you! I had to look up the word - through a desert. Lots of sand, lots of sun. And last night, worst of all, I was on a ship (throwing up over the side rail, let’s be honest). I’ve never even seen a ship before. River boats, yes, with oars, but this was a ship with sails (another word I had to look up!) It’s enough to make me hope I’m insane already, because if I’m not, I’m going to go there from lack of sleep. On the upside, I’m getting a lot accomplished in the forge.
Speaking of the forge, that ceremonial dagger I’m working on for mother is coming along nicely. My inlay skills are getting more precise all the time..... <what follows is a description of several projects and tooling methods -J>.
One more note - I got approved today to join the Druug-Krimcz<Tunnel Fighters> on my next birthday. It’s a little early - I’ll only be forty-six - but the Lieutenant is a friend of my father’s, and father agreed to push him a little on my behalf. I knew he would - father is as anxious to have me out of his sight as I am to be out of it. We got into another disagreement this morning, this time about my upcoming marriage. We haven’t had one this bad since I told him I wanted to become a Chan-Rhiu. I can tell that this is going to be a source of quite a number of disagreements. I feel that I am meant for more that being a mother! At least he has no problems with me joining the military for a duty term after my coming of age. But this Mydyarsdi they plan to announce my marriage to Lugronn<Clever hand> of the Ironfire clan. Not that I don’t like Lugronn - in fact, we’ve been friends since we were children. And he’s a good match socially - Ironfire is one of the more popular clans, and Lugronn is stable and intelligent. He’s young, but I think if he put his mind to it he could be Rigen-Than<Warder King> someday. However, he knows nothing of my dreams, and would undoubtedly disapprove. Strenuously.
BOOK 28, PAGE 308
Blutmatz 12<November 12>, 492
By the Beard of the Crafter! How can we be so short-sighted?! I have looked everywhere, and found no mention of where there might be a living dragon. According to the literature of the Dwarves, they’re all dead. All of them. How can we be so blind?! BAH! I know how we can be so blind - we think of nothing outside our own borders. Well, if I’m not mad and my dreams are to be believed, there’s at least one left somewhere - but where? I suppose I’ll need to go to Uragoth eventually, although how I’ll survive that I can’t begin to imagine. Perhaps the Elves may know....
BOOK 30, PAGE 1
Solmatz 7, 494
Oh, it was priceless! The look on my staid old father’s face. I’m still chuckling.
What I’m referring to, of course, is the adult name I took today. My darling dour father had been dropping hints that I should consider the name he had chosen for me - Wrulden<Swiftarm>, because of my success with defeating the assorted tunnel beasts my troupe has come across in the last four years. It was finally a reason for him to be proud of me. But thanks to all the fights we have had over the years, and as a warning of what is to come, I chose something much more appropriate - Mrin<the Disobedient>.
The warning - I’ve made my decision, you see. I still have the dreams about once a week. I join the regular military tomorrow, and have managed to get the marriage pushed back until I am done with my two-year service.
Before the wedding, I’ll be gone.
My Chan-Rhiu and I have continued to be fast friends, even though I never became his Apprentice. He has still tutored me, and advised me over the years, and we remain close. Close enough, I felt, to be worth the risk of letting him know my plans, since if he decided to back me his help in making preparations and planning my route would be invaluable. Thank the Crafter, I was right. He believes that it’s high time we had a King again, and he has always said my dreams were worth listening to - especially if they really could lead me to the Mace. He has promised all the help within his power. He has a lot of connections - that’s going to be quite a lot of help!
BOOK 32, PAGE 98
Trimidg 15 <May 15>, 496
Today, I left the mountain.
It’s a little over a month and a half until my supposed wedding with Lugronn. I decided that this was as far back as I could push it without meeting folk coming overland for Litk. I’m heading east, to Collosum. Deep under the city is the entrance to StkaHolbyt<Hobbit Way>, the ancient tunnel to Orenvale. I figure I’ll have a better chance of not running into anyone who knows me if I go sunside for this section of the trip, and once I’m through Collosum and into the tunnel I probably won’t see another living soul until I surface on the other end. Of course, if the Holbyten don’t have the lore I need, I’ll go into back down and turn onto StkaYlvn<Elven Way>. If they don’t know where to find a dragon, I don’t know who will....
I’ve been packing for the last three days, in stealth in the middle of third shift. I haven’t been sleeping well anyhow. I also haven’t written in the diary those days, but I’ve left blank pages so that my counting doesn’t go awry.
Undoubtedly the most dangerous part of my preparations was breaking into Father’s horde the night before last and stealing the Kull Ikornu<Unicorn Cup>, which renders all liquids placed within non-toxic (at least to Dwarves - to my knowledge, it’s never been tried on any of the other races). Of course, it also renders Dwarven Ale non-alcoholic, so caution must be taken....
Last night, I didn’t sleep. At mid-of-night, I gathered my supplies and crept up the back tunnels to the Hrulg dens. Now it was time for all the work I’ve been doing above to pay off. The Sachzs keep the saddles inside the tunnels, and I fetched the one I’ve been training in for the last two years. It was issued to me for the duration of my military service, because I volunteered to learn surface-fighting as well as deep-fighting. I found Chaik<Jumper>, my ‘assigned’ Hrulg (who are we kidding, Chaik is the only being I’ve gotten along with consistently over the last year), waiting for me by the entrance as I’ve trained him over the last two weeks, and we loaded up and were off.
We made ten miles by dawn, and over the rest of the day made another twenty more - not bad for mountain terrain. It’s the longest ride I’ve ever been on, and both of us are exhausted. It seems as though I’m too keyed up to sleep, however, so after fifteen minutes of trying I decided to catch up on my diary. After all, it’s only here that I can admit that I’M TERRIFIED!!!! This isn’t the first time I’ve slept starside, thanks to the military training, but now I know I won’t be going back for a long, long time. I really hope I’m doing the right thing.
In any case, right thing or no, we’ll enter Collosum late tomorrow. Chaik assures me that the long trip underground won’t bother him, and hopefully enough Hrulg are seen around the capital that he won’t be particularly noticed....
BOOK 32, PAGE 99
Trimidg 16, 496
Busy day!
We got into Collosum at about the fifth hour past midday. As the Dwarven Capitol City, they leave their Riik open except in time of war. There are guards of course, but they weren’t too terribly suspicious of a fellow Dwarf. It took another good three hours to get down to the Turriik<Deep gate> levels, and another hour to find the riikStkaHolbyt. Then three more to get it open. It hadn’t been used in a long, long time - several centuries, I’d imagine. Probably been sealed up since the time of the last King - all the Warder Kings have been pretty isolationist, and most of the Turriiks have been closed since then. Bless my old Chan-Rhiu, for digging up the opening codes and keys for me. These things are supposed to be kept in the care of the KreckKayin<War Marshal>, but from what my Chan-Rhiu told me the cabinet hadn’t been opened in decades.... In any case, between the keys, the Words, and some good old-fashioned brute strength, I edged it far enough to get myself and Chaik through. It closed much more easily - and for some reason that makes me nervous.
From the outside, the riik looks like a tunnel collapse - just a mound of boulders completely sealing the tunnel. Legend has it that any you move will be magickally replaced by another, so that the pile never gets any smaller. I didn’t take the time to test the legend. Close by, there are four false gates in the tunnel walls, some obvious, some meant to be difficult to find. Supposedly they all lead to traps and pitfalls of one type or another. I didn’t test those either. After I had passed the last potential snare, I put out my torch. The tunnel floor is still smooth, and my Darksight is good enough that I can see farther without the torch. Happily, Chaik was just as pleased to have it snuffed as well.
From here, it’s a straight road to the Hobbit Shire. It should be fairly easy, unless one (or more) of the Dark Races has discovered the tunnel....
BOOK 32, PAGE 100
Trimidg 23, 496
To conserve paper (so that I’m not hauling around a library), I’m only going to write when something happens. It’s been a week in the tunnel so far, and we should be nearing the half-way point. Crafter bless Chaik - with him I’m traveling much faster than I could have on my own two feet. I’m just writing so that I remember to mention the river that has washed out the path. At some time over the last several centuries, an underground river broke through the area and now the path is divided by a 20 foot wide chasm. From the sound of the water below, I’d guess that it’s at least a 300 foot drop. Chaik told me that he could make the jump, but the tunnel was too low for him to make it with me on his back. The walls are too smooth to find anything to tie my rope on to, so we finally settled for having Chaik jump across with one end of the rope in his mouth. Then I’d jump while holding on to the other end, and he’d pull me up on the other side.
It was a near thing to get Chaik over to the far side. The height of the tunnel limited his arc, and he landed with his back paws just shy of the lip. He held on with his front claws and scrabbled with his back feet, and finally got himself all the way over. Then it was my turn. I held on, shut my eyes and stepped off into the chasm, swinging down and hitting the other side with my feet so that I didn’t get the wind knocked out of me. I started going hand-over-hand, and could hear Chaik’s claws clicking on the stone as he slowly backed away from the edge.
After one tense moment when Chaik slipped and the rope I was hanging on dropped about five feet, I eventually made it to the top. Chaik and I were both trembling and sweating, and I decided we’d stop for the night right here. I gave him a good brush-down, and as soon as I’m done writing we’re going to curl up and go to sleep.
BOOK 32, PAGE 101
Furlitk 8, 496
So much has happened since the last time I wrote that I hardly know how to begin. Towards the end of that night, I was roused from sleep by the sound of voices - Kylvn voices. I had only picked up a few words out of the lore-books, but I recognized War, Blood and King. I awoke Chaik and we packed up, very quietly, as I tried to determine where the voices were coming from. As nearly as I could figure, they were echoing up out of the chasm - and they were getting louder. Chaik and I moved out, as quickly and silently as we were able, but - rotten luck! - the path was crossed by another chasm not far ahead. This one was narrower, about 13 feet across, but still too wide for Chaik to jump with me on his back. We started to use the same routine as last time, and had gotten to the part with me hanging from the rope that Chaik was holding, when disaster struck. The Kylvn had discovered us! I heard Chaik growling above, but he was hampered by trying not to let go of the rope. I heard a crossbow thrum, and then a canine shriek....
Chaik let go when he died.
I had just managed to find a handhold when the rope went slack. The top end of the rope came falling past me as I scrambled for a foothold. Then I heard grunting and scuffling from above, and looked up to see a Kylv looking down at me. I cursed him, and was grabbing my throwing dagger with my free hand when he pushed Chaik’s body over the lip. The Hrulg fell right on top of me, knocking me off the wall. I don’t know how far I fell, but somehow we got twisted around in the air and I landed on Chaik’s poor battered form. I got the wind knocked out of me, but I survived. Even in death, he was still my protector. I didn’t know how long I had before the Kylvn showed up, so I didn’t have time to build a proper cairn, which I will regret the rest of my life. I pulled the bolt from his head, however, and still carry it with me. Someday, Crafter help me, I will find the Kylv who loosed it and take Chaiksym<Chaik’s Price*> from him - slowly. This I swear.
In the meantime, I had to escape. There were two tunnel openings nearby. Both were well-traveled, and had distant voices issuing from them, and both initially led down. I shouldered my packs, chose a tunnel at random and limped out, realizing that I had injured my left knee when I landed.
The tunnel sloped down for a short way, then turned off to the left with a man-sized crack in the right wall. I looked through the crack, and saw a short tunnel leading off to a much larger chamber. I listened and heard no echoes coming through the small passage, so I ducked in. It was a tight fit with all my traveling gear, but I made it to the other end where I saw that the tunnel terminated in a small ledge leading along the side of a crevice near its roof. All was still and quiet, so I chanced it, moving out onto the narrow (and often unstable) ledge. It led me downward by degrees, sometimes dwindling and twice vanishing completely so that I had to break out my rope and pitons. Unfortunately, hammering pitons is not a quiet activity, and near the end of the second climb someone heard me. I heard a yell, and the sound of booted feet approaching at a run from the far end of the crevice where the ceiling dipped in a sharp arc to meet the floor. I dropped sharply down the remaining twenty feet to the top of the scree that was piled against the wall. From there it was only a forty foot slide to the crevice floor, which I noted in passing seemed to be covered by an old lava flow. I retrieved my rope in an instant, and started running for the other end of the chasm, my injured knee forgotten.
The floor sloped up in front of me, but I could see that it was leading toward another tunnel - presumably the site of the entrance of the lava. With any luck, that tunnel would lead to the open mouth of a volcano, by which I could climb sunside where I hoped that they would decline to follow.
I failed to remember that luck was not with me that day.
In fact, the tunnel led by way of a long slow curve to another large chamber. This one was lit, glowing in red and orange. I slowed my headlong approach, worried that I was about to tumble into an active volcano, but I noticed as I paused that I felt no heat. I also noticed the low murmur of voices. I crept toward the entrance, mindful of my pursuers but wary of running into, say, the whole Kylvn army. As I came closer, I realized I could hear Yrch voices as well. Kylv AND Yrch?! Some kind of unholy alliance, no doubt. I told myself I’d have to warn someone, if I could ever get out - a prospect which at that point seemed in doubt. Finally, when my pursuers sounded as if they were just beyond sight around the bend in the passage behind me, I came to an intersection in the tunnel. Another tunnel, this one obviously carved by hands instead of by nature, crossed the passage I was in some thirty yards before the cavern opened. Without pausing to consider, I dodged into the left-hand tunnel and started off again at a run.
I quickly realized that the tunnel I was following was curving around to the right. I soon passed a tunnel that led off to the left, and could see beyond it a full intersection, lit from the right by the illumination from the cavern. I continued on ahead, surmising that the passage I was following led around some sort of council chamber and had been put there to enable lesser persons to come and go without disturbing those within. I hoped that if I could get at least partway around without being seen, I could dodge into a passage without anyone ever knowing which way I had gone.
I was moving across the intersection I had seen when I heard a grand commotion in the council chamber. I risked a quick glance and saw that apparently my pursuers had barreled right into the middle of the negotiations. I heard the Kylvn word for Dwarf, and the Yrchen word for traitors. I scurried on.
I passed one more full intersection, then took a little-used passageway that led only off to the left. I concluded that the whole damn Kylvn army would be after me soon, but I was rapidly tiring and my knee was beginning to ache - badly. I ran on for perhaps another mile when the path was crossed by another small crevice. I crawled through the opening to the right, and after twisting and turning for about twenty feet, the floor dropped out from under me and I fell another ten. It was very dark where I was now, but by my limited Darksight and by feeling around, I discovered that I had landed in a small chamber perhaps ten feet by fifteen. There were no exits other than the way I had come in and an almost vertical chimney even higher up, and I decided that it would make a marvelous place to camp. I sat down and fell asleep almost at once.
I don’t know how long I slept, but at least I slept undisturbed. When I at length awoke, I took stock. Gear, more or less intact. Left knee, twisted pretty soundly. Rest of the body, more or less intact. Visual, dark. Auditory, quiet. Depth, approximately 630 yards. Exits, ten feet up leading to the west, and thirty feet up, leading steeply up to the north. I examined the climb to the higher passage, and determined it possible. I was correct, and soon after found myself in another rough chamber, with a wooden door set in one wall. It opened onto a hewn tunnel, and from there life became an endless series of sneaking and hiding, sometimes for hours and once for two days. My sense of direction is fairly good, but few of the passages ended up leading in the direction that they started toward, so it was a very tense eleven days before I managed to reach the surface.
I reached the surface in the center of a thicket in the middle of the woods. I came out through a natural fissure so small that I had to push all my packs out ahead of me, then take off my armor and exhale to fit through. Even then I lost a couple of layers of skin. It was late in the day when I emerged, and I traveled on through the day and well into the night before I stopped. Once I was no longer moving, I basically passed out.
I spent the next day (yesterday) in the ritual of Kyre-Sul<Keening the Dead>, to finally show proper mourning for Chaik. I don’t know how I’ll go on without him - but somehow, I’ll have to.
Unfortunately, I have no idea where in Xaria I am.
* The Price referred to here is the ancient Dwarven custom of Blood-Price, now mostly fallen into disuse. There was a chart that measured out, in gold, the price of unlawfully committing damage to a Dwarf - so much for an eye, so much for an arm, so much for a death. If the person could not pay in gold, then the price was taken out of his body - quickly or slowly as the injured party (or his representatives) demanded. It was usually done slowly.
** Here, Mrin refers to the legendary ability of the Dwarves to determine approximate depth and direction when underground. No hard facts are available to explain how it is done, for no Dwarf will tell you. They might not even know, it being supposedly as natural to them as sight. Several theories have been posited, such as listening to the barely audible sounds of the rock moving, or tasting it to determine age, or even communing with the rock on a spiritual level, but it all remains inconclusive.
BOOK 32, PAGE 102
Furlitk 11, 496
Well, it would seem that I am in Gesnor. I finally came across a village today, and was able to go in and pick up a few supplies. I was disgruntled to learn that in the twenty-six days since I left the mountain, I’ve come only eighty linear leagues. But, no help for it - now that Chaik is...gone...I’m on my own two feet and it’s going to take me considerably longer that I had originally anticipated. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how to ride a horse, or even a pony. Hrulg, at least, you can communicate with!
BOOK 32, PAGE 103
Mydyarsdi, 496
Here it is Mydyarsdi, and I’m not even to the Orenvale border yet. I should be there sometime late tomorrow. To celebrate the holiday, I actually went into a village Inn and had a drink. I can’t believe what these humans call liquor! I’ve gotten a better buzz from a mountain stream. Absolute piss water. There won’t be any more of that, I can tell you!
I’ve been avoiding the villages before this one. One thing my Chan-Rhiu drilled into my head is that Humans see all Dwarves as ‘rich’ <that word is given in Human -J>. He told me that they’d be as likely to rob me as give me directions. Nice, huh? Besides, most of their villages smell awful. Obviously no one out here has ever seen an aqueduct....
On the plus side, while having my drink I met a nice young Hobbit! His name is Jayfoot Bloomrose, and he has agreed to guide me to the Orenvale Council, and introduce me. I’ve recorded our conversation here, as well as I remember it:
The scene: I wearily shuffle through the doors of the only Inn in the village, and stumble up to the bar. I hear a voice speak behind me, from about my height, saying "What is a female Dwarf doing outside Thorin?"
I turn and look at him, bleary-eyed. When I recognize that he's a Hobbit, I perk up considerably. "I'm on a quest, actually. In fact, I could use your help."
"Barkeep, a drink for this Dwarf."
"Much appreciated, friend. Tell me, how close are we to the Orenvale border?"
"At least a day's travel. I have been in and out of Thorin many times and it is quite rare to see a female Dwarf. Even rarer to see one outside Thorin. Should we talk in a booth?"
"Preferably. I'm headed to the Shire, to seek the Old Lore of the Hobbits in helping me locate a Dragon. The Dwarves believe that they're all dead, but they tend to be rather short-sighted on this particular topic." I pause, then continue, "I've never actually met a Hobbit before, although I'm told our two races were once quite close. Do you travel outside of Orenvale often?"
Moving to a more private booth, he replies, "Our races would be the oldest after the Elves."
"I've never seen an Elf, either. I'm rather looking forward to it."
"But there are very few similarities besides size and our uneasiness with what Elves call Magik. How many Hobbits have you seen?"
"You would be the first, and I'm very glad to have met you!" I signal the barkeep to order the next round. "Can you tell me of your Lore-Masters? Where might I find them?"
"You can find them in the Central Shire. It is almost dead center in Orenvale. On your question about do I travel outside of Orenvale often, that would be yes. I am one of the few struck with what my people call the Wanderlust."
"Excellent! The Crafter has guided me to you! Have you ever seen a Dragon in your wanderings?"
"No I have not seen one. Not many that do would be around to talk about it. I have seen a Drake, but they are much smaller and not as intelligent."
"How much smaller? Do they have any of the abilities of the larger ones - breathing fire and all that?"
"Well, you see those humans over there?"
"Smell them, rather, but yes."
"They are about twice my size, yes?"
"Yes..."
"That is the rumour I have heard between a drake and a dragon. Drakes are about the size of a small house."
"Half of a dragon, eh? I wonder if that would be big enough..." I pause, musing.
"Big enough for what?"
"This is rather embarrassing, but I have visions, you see. I have had a vision of what looks to be the talons of a dragon, holding an artifact that is very important to my people. I am determined to find it. I was wondering if the talons of a drake would be big enough to match what I have seen."
"The talons of a drake would be just shorter then I."
"Mayhap, indeed. Where did you see this drake?"
"This Drake!! Milady, Drakes are plentiful. I have seen them on the East and West Coasts of Xaria. The northern highlands and the southern lowlands."
"Plentiful where? Not in the mountains of my homeland - we'd have had them all roasted for entrees by now. And this is my first time away from the mountain...." I look away, and take a large drink. "Well then, I suppose I'd best start looking in Uragoth. Perchance the ones there, if they have it not, might direct me thence..."
"The Lore Masters will know more. I have never spent much time recording my adventures. 30+ years will do that for you."
"If you are one of the few who travel, you should by all means record your adventures. And if you can, please send a copy to the Chan-Rhiu of Goldriver Hold - he'd love to read it!" I motion to the bartender to order another round.
"No, my friend - you got the last round! Barkeep, stop with this weak swill. I know you have a cask of real Dwarven Ale. Open that and start pouring!"
"Very well, I don't want to start an argument with the first civilized person I've met on my road. Thank you."
"You should see what they have back there. I mean I was just walking around and they have - whoops! Drinks are here. You're right, barkeep, I promised to be quiet."
"Really? To tell the truth, I've been avoiding human habitation ere now. I went into one, and was served something foul enough that I left immediately. And the smell! I only stopped in here by chance, to re-supply. Are you by any possibility heading toward your homeland, as opposed to away? I would be most grateful for a guide!"
"I have not been back for a while and my father has sent word asking for me. I will be heading into the Shire."
"May I accompany you?"
"Aye, I would love the company!"
"My thanks, my friend. By the by, how much do Hobbits still use their Old language?"
"I still speak and write the Old Hobbitish language. Also Dwarven and Elvish."
"Most well - I managed to pick up some from old trade agreements and such, but I could use some brushing up.... By the way, how are you called so that I may thank you by name?"
"Jayfoot Bloomrose, at your service."
"Well met, Jayfoot Bloomrose. My name is Mrin Greyhammer, called The Disobedient, and I am in your debt. Now tell me, friend Jayfoot, do you think it's safe to sleep on the premises?"
"How are you traveling - by foot or mount? It has been a while since I have seen a Hrulg! We should be safe to sleep on premises although there is a cost involved."
"By foot." I look very grim when I say it. "My Hrulg was killed by Drow in the StkaHolbyt. The cost of the room is of little import."
"I am sorry. I thought I was the only one who still used the StkaHolbyt. It has become a dangerous journey."
"Well do I know it. When I reach the Hall of your Loremasters I must send a letter to Collosum, warning them of the Drow's near approach to the belly of the city."
"They will never learn how to open the riik. It took me days but it was fun figuring it out!"
"You did what?!"
"It took a little time, but when you remove the rocks in a certain order they do not reappear. Then you will find a keyhole. That wasn't very hard to open. Unfortunately the rocks reappear whenever the door shuts and you have to start again." (At this point I am spluttering incoherently with sheer amazement.) "The Drow have been down there for years. They think no one knows, but the Orcs are not very subtle or intelligent."
"Hmmm. Grim news. If the Hobbits have not already sealed their end permanently, it might be wise to suggest it to your Council."
"The Shire council rarely gets involved in war. They are mostly traders and farmers. We do grow the best leaf in the land! I have informed the Elves of the situation and the mannish races in the area."
"I actually smoke your leaf! My father imports some every year."
"We thank him then."
"However, war can appear on your doorstep uninvited. I know how to drop the tunnel, and I will offer this knowledge to your Council."
"You can suggest it but they will discuss it for years."
"Perhaps we should just do it along the way. An accidental rockslide, if anyone asks."
"That might be better. I will miss the shortcut into Thorin though."
"As far as I know, you and I are the only two who have been into the Stka in centuries. Except, of course, for the Dark races. But how much of a short-cut will it be when the Drow have used it to invade your homeland? Besides, you should still be able to access it shortly inside the Gesnor border. Only the ends have the rigged collapse."
"You would be amazed at the traps on my side of the Stka. You think the disappearing rocks were tough! BARKEEP, one last round and then we will need two rooms for the night!"
"Suit yourself. We'll keep it open." I yawn.
"No, you are right we should collapse it. The kylv and the yrch are not subtle and will not see the beauty in the doors - they will just destroy the whole entry to enter."
"Agreed then." I pause, then add, "And if you're good enough to get through Dwarven traps - and Ancient ones at that! - you DEFINITELY need to be writing down your adventures!"
"Someone else has mentioned that once. Pernum Darkstorme, an old friend and a great bard. I tell him to just write me into his adventures."
"Pernum Darkstorme? Is he still alive? Perhaps he would have the answers I need - if only one could get them out of him."
"Aye. He best be alive because if what my father has written me is true I will need his help."
"How so?"
"The Shire Council members have started to have dreams. They are apocalyptic in nature. Hobbit dreams have a tendency to come true. Since I have chosen to wander, the Council has chosen me to find if the dreams are true."
"As it so happens, I believe in dreams. Will you relate them to me on our walk tomorrow?"
"Aye, I will."
We finish our drinks, and seek the rooms that the Innkeeper has prepared for us.
"Sleep well and dream peacefully. We do not need to wake early to reach the Shire by nightfall."
"And bolt your door. Dream well!"
(EDITOR’S NOTE: most of the rest of her books and scrolls have been lost to time or her travels. From what we have been able to piece together, she studied for a while at Orenvale, then braved the StkaYlvn to Doro Y’Edhel. This time she was alert for the presence of the Dark Races, so that when she encountered them under Chalter Medrium and Doro Y’Edhel she managed to evade them. Once in Dun Y’Estel, she studied for two months with SuraLi, the Keeper of the Library of the Elves, digging up all the lore she could on behaviors, hordes, and lairs of Dragons. Most of this confirmed what she already knew, which was that she was going to have to go into Uragoth to look for them. Not all of them lived there, but enough to make it a likely starting point.
She managed to survive for nearly two weeks in Uragoth before her inevitable capture by an Orc/Drow raiding party. She escaped twice, but as she was on foot and alone it wasn’t long before she was captured both times. When asked later why she thought they hadn’t killed her, she replied, “Because I amused them, I suppose. Look,” and showed the burn marks on her back and legs where they tortured her for fun. Finally, after three months, she managed her final escape (though she would never discuss exactly how), and this time managed to steal a steed as well. She evaded their clutches and finally made it, freezing, bleeding and barely conscious, to the garrison town of Holemn past the border of Quivera. Once inside, she traded the horse to the Innkeeper for lodging, and collapsed in the doorway.
She grew ill, and spent most of the next week delirious, while her Inn tab kept mounting. Finally, the Hostess took pity on her and moved her to the house of the Army Healer, who was delighted to have something to do in the middle of winter, for the armies wouldn’t move again until spring. He treated her throughout the course of her fever, and by the end of February she had finally become coherent again. To facilitate her recovery, she began working with the garrison’s Armourer, trading work and advice for room, board and some coins, which she used to pay off the Innkeep and Healer. By the end of August, she had recovered enough to move on, and had acquired enough cash to purchase herself some clothes and supplies. She took with her the blades she had made at the Armourer’s as demonstration pieces, and headed for Irroquin.
She had heard that all of the information of the world came through Irroquin, and she wanted a piece of it. She traded odd jobs on the way south to keep herself fed and for wagon rides, and by early October had arrived in the port city of Connach. The scroll that follows was mailed from Connach to the Chan-Rhiu of Goldriver Hold. -J)
(SCROLL)
Wunderfiltk 11, 497
I’ve finally made it to one of the Irroquin ports, a large town named Connach. I make my way to the Hall of Travelers, following directions of the locals. With a minimum of wrong turns, I arrive and contact one of the Hall officials to arrange for my posting. I’ve been told several times, “If you don’t pay, it doesn’t stay.” The transaction handled, and my official number obtained, I post a note that reads: ‘Wanted - verifiable information on the whereabouts of Dragons, preferably living ones. This information may be worth much. Please leave messages with the Hall addressed to this posting number. Thank you.’ I post in Human, Dwarven, Elven and Old Hobbit, just to make sure. As I’m putting it up, I notice that a human has come up behind me, and is reading over my shoulder. He exclaims in Dwerrow, "Dragons! You know they haven't been seen in nearly 250 years. Chances are VERY slim that anyone will have any information for you.”
I reply, "Yes, that's the rumor. However, if I cannot find them alive, which is my preference, I at least need to know where they laired. Have you traveled far, good youth?”
“I might be able to assist you, perhaps we can retire to a less public place? I have traveled all my life, and know much of these lands. A drink perhaps?”
"A drink would be welcome - I have only just arrived. Can you recommend a decent tavern?"
“Most of these ramshackle tents around these Halls have a fairly good selection. How did you come to find yourself so far from Thorin? I must say you make an unusual sight on the roads of Xaria...”
“Well, that's a long story. Best told over a long drink.” I gesture for him to lead the way, and walk close beside him, humming softly to myself. He leads over to the Inn/tent that appears the nicest. We find a table and order some drinks....
He begins, "I think we may be able to help one another, you see.... I know something of dragons, and you seem to know something of Drow. You find me on my way north, to see what I can learn of the Ylv - Kylv war. Perhaps we might exchange some stories?”
"Kylv!" I spit. "(and I string off some Dwarven that he’s not sure the exact translation of, but he knows it's not polite.)” I then give him the brief version of my travels through the war zone, all of which I have already written.
“I understand that they are a great enemy. And from what you have told me, you have much reason to curse them. However, I think that they are a danger to more than you or I. And I must go see their plans, their ideas. My goddess expects nothing less from me.”
“Your goddess wants to send you to torture and death? Time to find a new religion.”
“I will not be tortured. I have a great deal of experience staying concealed.”
"Would that I had had some when I started. I've learned some now - the hard way. In any case, you can find them here, here, here, and here,...." I start drawing a map in ale on the table, and marking out the enemy locations.
“One moment, my lady. I have a map in my case here....”
“Better yet! By the by, what is your name, young friend?”
He eagerly gets out his map and charcoal, and puts small characters on the map wherever I point out Drow locations. “I am so sorry, in my excitement to speak with thee.... I am Zachary D'Nath, Witness of Torma.”
"An honor and a pleasure, sir. I am Mrin Greyhammer, called the Disobedient. Pardon my boldness, but who is Torma?”
“She is the goddess I serve. She chronicles Xaria, and it is through my questing eyes that she sees the land.” He betrays some surprise at the number of Drow locations, especially the underground ones in Gesnor.
“You alone? That's one heck of a lot of responsibility. Hmmph - I should let her read my diaries sometime....”
“There are others like me, until very recently in history we have kept ourselves secret from those around us. Do not be surprised if she has already seen your journals. She has already heard your tale though mine ears, and you are now in her ledger.”
“Well, I'm in a goddess' ledger. I'm flattered. A toast, then, to Torma.”
“To Torma.” (He sneaks a bless spell, which he passes to me when we clink mugs.)
I also give him approximate troop strengths. “But now, friend Zachary, have you heard rumor of any dragon lairs of old?”
“I am afraid that I may have no new information for you. You see, I know that Drakken used to lair in what is now called Uragoth. However, I know that they haven't been seen since the year 250, disappearing the same month the heavens turned the color of blood.... Is this helpful to you?”
“Well, I've already been into Uragoth to look for them, and I'm NOT going back until I have a much larger force at my back. Or a ring of invisibility, or some such aid. I'm actually on my way back to Thorin now, to see if I can round up some help. Also, perhaps, to see if I can convince some of the Dwarves to enter the war. I've heard something about an apocalypse, you see - do you happen to have any information on that?”
“Well, the apocalypse. You see, I had really thought that I had heard rumor on the road, but, with you now mentioning it, I find myself more apprehensive. I do know something of the Apocalypse. May I ask, why do you seek Drakken?”
“It has to do with a legend, and a dream. Long, long ago, when the world was young, a special mace was made of our most precious metal, by one of our deities. Upon it was engraved all the lineage of our kings. A few millenia ago, it was stolen by the cursed Yrch. I have had a dream - actually several - detailing it to me, and it is currently in the Drakken clutches. I. will. find. it. It is called Suruk-Than, the Mace of Kings.”
“I have heard of the mace, and I would enjoy helping you find it. However, I am currently seeking another Dwarven relic, for a friend who once helped me.”
“Of what race was the friend? Bartender - more ale!”
“He is human, I believe. He is seeking Valkirk's Anvil, which was promised to him by his Dwarven master. Both were smithy, you see.”
“A human studying with a Dwarf? What was his name - the human's?”
“He uses the name Garn while travelling these roads.”
“Ga-... oh, yes, Garn. I do recall hearing of him. Yes, he was studying with the Mastersmith - a lucky fellow, indeed. I must admit - people in my Hold thought it was a joke when we heard. Kind of like 'did you hear the one about...'”
“It has been too long since I have taken drink with a Dwarf! To our success in the coming months!”
“To our success! I wish you luck in finding the Anvil.”
“You know, I recently overheard a drunken man say something about Dragon blood, now what was it.....”
“Oh?” I lean forward.
“He was most reluctant to talk, saying that what he knew, "'ould bloody change ever'thing, mate. Nobody left the same. Ever' bleedin' one of us, ferever." I kept pressing him, but he would not say much more until I bought him several more mugs of drink. Then, finally, after downing something called an Orcish Slaughter, he turned to me and said seriously, without a hint of his former drunkeness: "They say the dragons are gone. They are gone, mate. All of 'em." He leaned in close to me. "But their blood lives on, mate. Their blood lives on." Then his eyes fluttered, and before I could get in another word, he fell to the bar with a crash, slid off his stool and ended in a heap in the sawdust on the floor.”
“Oh, my. I wonder how their blood could live on without them? And of course, the next question is where.... Tell me - was he still alive?”
“Yes, he was alive, passed out. The next morning I tried to seek him out again, but he was gone. No one knew his name or where he had gone. I really think that the disappearance of the dragons has something to do with the coming apocalypse. You see, Torma has spoken to us, she has said that in the year 500, something of great import will occur. She says she cannot yet see the outcome, it is too hazy. But we all must be there, witnessing what will come. The Blood Sky Omen of 250, the Apocalypse of 500. Have you heard of a Khamn named Tarrik?”
“The coming apocalypse,” I sigh. “I know the world is coming to its end, when the Dwarves grow so slack as to allow the Dark Races into our Stkan. But yes, I have heard rumour of Tarrik, and his quest. Poor fellow, it's lucky he's still alive. Have you met the man himself?”
“No, I have not. I would very much like to, though. What do you know of him?”
“Half the world applauds him, the other half thinks he's a danger and is bringing the apocalypse himself. I know the Ylvn Council is keeping a close eye on him. Does Torma know where the apocalypse will be triggered? You'll probably meet him there.”
“She has not yet told us. It is VERY rare for her to communicate so openly with the Eyes. The fact that she has done so leads me to believe that there are truly earth-shattering events coming....”
“Tell me, how does Torma watch through you? She's welcome to do the same through me, if she wants.”
“You are returning to Thorin, you said? I was hesitating to mention this, worried that you might misinterpret me, but, the Goldriver Hold has offered a reward for your safe return. Perhaps home isn't as safe as you were hoping?”
“They what?!”
“I saw it posted further to the south. Your return gets the person who brings you pick from the masters horde one item.”
“Well, of all the - probably my father. He thinks I'm a complete idiot - a danger to myself and others, you know? Really, he just doesn't want me to find the Mace. There are a contingent of Dwarves who feel that way - who are happy with the Warder Kings, as kings that they can control.” I sigh again.
“Perhaps you should be more careful as to who you give your name. Please be assured that you need not fear me. You asked of Torma?”
“Thank you very much for the information, my friend, I am in your debt. And yes - if Torma needs more eyes, she's welcome to ride along in mine. There is much more journeying ahead of me.”
“Truly!? Let me teach you this short prayer. It will allow Torma observe to world around you. Her presence will help you as well.”
“My Lady Torma, my five senses are to you.
Through my eyes, see the world around me,
My ears find the sounds for you to hear,
My nose, breathing life for you to live,
Through my lips you speak on this world.
My hands are your powerful hands.
Lady Torma, my five senses are to you.”
“This will be most powerful if you speak it in your mother tongue. I have never translated it, can we do that together?”
I repeat it after him, first in Human and then in Dwerrow:
“Torma Onen, ylkenmreet suset remme Mu
Resa dizen suset, dizan Chimmel sutenel
Illen suset iloinn nokken Mu ilel,
Mog suset, hurn remme Mu remme,
Resa noken suset Mu kalin Chimmel,
Lugren suset remme Lugrenurss Muset.
Torma Onen, ylkenmreet suset remme Mu.”
"Interesting. I do feel sort of different. More relaxed, really. I think I like your goddess. You said she almost never speaks back to you? Pity, that. I'd like to ask her where the Crafter is.”
“She has never spoken to me. Her communication goes through the Eyes, the leader of our sect. The current Eyes is a man named Albernath. He is in Northern Akkoria.”
“Perhaps I'll send word to him to ask him when I get home. Hmmm. If I get home. This reward business will be a problem, especially the closer I get. If it was father, he probably first sent word to the Veldren Knights of Gesnor - he communicates with them regularly. I'm surprised I haven't been picked up by a squad of them already.”
“They are a difficult group to work with. Their intent is pure, their approach is sometimes...how shall I say this...confused?”
“That's very polite of you. Oh, well - it's probably the cold that freezes their senses. Don't they know that if you live that far north, you should live underground? Bartender - more ale!”
“Perhaps not. We humans do not feel comfortable under the earth. Although, I would love to someday see the Keeps of Thorin. Well milady, I feel that I must retire. Shall we meet again?”
“By all means, friend Zachary. Tell me, do you know of anywhere in town decent enough to stay, perhaps with baths? I must smell like the lair of a sick Hrulg....”
“I too am fairly new to this town. I usually find somewhere on the outskirts to sleep, under a tree or such. Perhaps the barwench will know of an Inn?”
“Perhaps.” I call over the barwench, get directions, and ask Zachary if he would like to accompany me.
“No thank thee. I am more comfortable away from the trappings of city life. And I must start out early in the morn on my travels north. I hope to reach the Galluran border within this moon....”
“Then fare you well wherever you fare. May your goddess receive you at your journey's end.”
“May the Crafter bless your search. I hope that I shall meet you again, Mrin. And don't forget, Torma is watching....goodbye.”
With that, he walks away with his pack on his back, having left a silver on the table for the ale. As he goes, I mutter under my breath, “Somehow, I get the funny feeling that we shall meet again, indeed....”
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Mrin stayed in Irroquin until spring, waiting to see if there was any response to her posting (there wasn’t - at least, there wasn’t anything useful), and earning herself enough money to travel again. She earned quite a tidy sum working for a local blacksmith, inventing several more efficient ways to make some necessary ship fittings. At night, she made herself a battle axe and some plate mail, and several small daggers and swords to sell at the outrageous Irroquin prices. She then took ship for Quivera, planning to sail north as far as she could and then go overland up to Thorin, to talk to the Dwarven Council as she mentioned above and to get a new Hrulg companion. Unfortunately, on her way, she was captured by a band of mercenaries who had also heard of her father’s reward. This time, her captors did not mistreat her, but they did slow her down tremendously as they detoured and stopped along the way to take other jobs. It wasn’t until late August that she managed to escape from them with the help of a Nost’Karean she met at a faire that she was allowed to go to under guard, to make sure that the mercs got a good price on some gems that they had managed to acquire. From the Nost’Karean, she got sleeping powder that she managed to get into the mercenaries’ drinking water, and she tied them all and slipped out in the middle of the night on foot. From there, she made her way once again toward Thorin, stopping in the next town to send a post to her Chan-Rhiu asking him to meet her in Collosum at the riikStkaHolbyt.
The second weekend in September found her in the town of Mulcott in Palrim, at the time of the Sacred Woods Festival. While there, she ....
Appendix A: Dwarven (and Hobbit, Hobbit names being given in italics) calendar
The first day of every year is on a Settrdi, and the last day is on a Fryydi. Mydyarsdi (Midyear’s Day), and in leap years Oburlitk (Overlithe) which followed Mydyarsdi, had no actual weekday designation. The Litk (Lithe) before Mydyar was Litk 1, and the Litk after Mydyar was Litk 2. Likewise, the Yul (Yule) at the end of the year was Yul 1, and that at the beginning of the year was Yul 2. A copy of the Shire calendar is appended separately.
Month names:
Apturyul (Afteryule)
Solmatz (Solmath)
Retk (Rethe)
Aztrun (Astron)
Trimidg (Thrimidge)
Furlitk (Forelithe)
Apturlitk (Afterlithe)
Wodmatz (Wedmath)
Halmatz (Halimath)
Wundrfiltk (Winterfilth)
Blutmatz (Blotmath)
Furyul (Foreyule)
Day names:
Settrdi (Saturday)
Soondi (Sunday)
Muddi etc.
Tosdi
Woddsdi
Torinsdi
Fryydi
RiugulenDwerrow - Kamn (Dwerrow to Human Dictionary)
general language
agil : v. to bless, n. blessing, adj. blessed
chaik: v. to jump
chan: n. master, teacher
Chimmel: n. the planet on which Xaria is a continent. It has no plural, for there is only one. Anything in human which refers to ‘the world’ translates to this.
destt: v. to split, n. split, adj. split
di: n. day
dizan: v. to see, n. sight
druug: n. tunnel
gul: n. word
hurn: v. to breathe, n. breath
ilel: v. to hear, n. hearing
iloinn: v. to find
k- : adj. dark
kaai: n. hall
kalin: v. to speak, (cap.) to speak the truth
kanin: v. to speak falsely
kayin: n. marshal, general
krimc: v. to fight; specifically, to do battle with in the cause of right
kreck: n. war
ku: n. spirit
kull: n. cup, goblet
kyre: n. keening (kyr : v. to keen or howl)
mrin: adj. reckless, disobedient
nokk: n. sound
onen: n. lady; specifically, as in a woman of refined qualities, not just a female
remme: v. to live, to be, n. life, being
resa: adv., prep. through
rg-: adj. slow, heavy
rhiu: n. lore, history
rhiugulen: n. dictionary (lit. lore of words)
rigen: n. warder, watcher
riik: n. gate
ronn: adj. clever
rt-: adj. quick, light
sach: v. to tend, to keep
skran: n. time; specifically, as in the time for a definable event.
Stka: n. way, highway. Always capitalized, used to denote major thoroughfares only.
sul: adj. dead, n. the dead
suruk: n. mace
sym: n. price, usually blood-price.
tenel: adv., prep. around
than: n. king
trialt: v. to contemplate. Used in the name, Trialtz, one who contemplates.
tur : adj. deep, in the sense of far underground, not as in deep water
ursek: n. mountain
urss: adj. powerful. This comes from the same root as the word mountain.
wrul: adj. swift
ylk: n. sense, as in one of the five, not as in common sense, or sense of direction. (pl. ylken)
-z: adv. one who performs the action of the verb to which this is attached. Ex: sachz = tender, one who tends. Grammatical note: this is a generalization, not an absolute rule in Dwerrow grammar.
body parts
ala : n. foot
altin : n. brow, forehead
bragt : n. heart
den : n. arm
diz : n. eye
il : n. ear. Plural illen
khi : n. neck
lugr : n. hand
mog : n. nose
nidd : n. tooth
nok : n. lip
other races
Drakk : Dragon. Plural Drakken
Holbyt : Hobbit. Plural Holbyten
Hrulg : see above. Plural Hrulgen
Ikornu : Unicorn. Plural Ikornen
Khamn : Human. Plural Khamenn
Kylv : Drow. Plural Kylvn
Ylv : Elf. Plural Ylvn
Yrch : Orc. Plural Yrchen
Dwerrow numbers
zero - brilk
one - tork
two - seel
three - myk
four - chad
five - mreet
six - terr
seven - doit
eight - nedge
nine - krill
ten - trull
twenty - seeltrul
thirty - myktrul
etc.
one hundred - loik
two hundred - seeloik
three hundred - mykloik
etc.
one thousand - kegg
two thousand - seelkeg
three thousand - mykeg
four thousand - chadkeg
etc.
Dwerrow pronouns
I, me - Su (S' in front of vowels)
You, singular - Mu (M' as above)
You, plural - Rhu (Rh')
He, him - pur
She, her - nur
they (people) - orec
they (things)- surr
it (thing) - limm
it (person, non-gender specific) - kor
Other notes: